Desperate Lifelines
by SerenaFelicity
Summary: An Alternate Universe Fic based on the book Lifelines by CJ Lyons. Lynette has started working at Fairview memorial hospital as the new attending. Can she save her job after making a big mistake? Includes all characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

**Monday, July 1: 6:45 PM**

July 1st. The most dangerous day of the year. Transition day, the day newly graduated medical students arrived to begin their internships and they were absolutely no smarter than they were on June 30. Dr. Lynette Lindquist knew all about the dangers of Transition Day. She knew people died on Transition Day. She knew starting her new job today was not a very good idea. But here she was. Standing outside of Fairview Memorial Hospital. She tried not to imagine running through Central Park as the leaves on the trees went from green to orange and red as fall approached. She'd left New York City behind. Fairview was home now. She took a deep breath before going inside the ER's main doors.

Lynette could remember her own Transition Day back in New York. What she had never understood until now was that as scary as medical school, internship and residency were, nothing was as terrifying as becoming an attending physician was. She was the boss, the person in charge. If anything went wrong she was the one who would be blamed. An air-conditioned breeze came through the ER's open doors and brought with it familiar sounds of an ER. Lynette felt excited. Whether she was ready or not, this was her new life.

As Lynette was getting the sign-out from Adam Mayfair, the attending the she was relieving, a petite Latina women in her late twenties joined them. "We've got a trauma coming in. Fourteen year old in full arrest."  
"I'll stay and help you." Adam said to Lynette.  
"No Adam, go home." Lynette said. He looked exhausted from working a 12 hour shift. Lynette knew she could handle anything Fairview had to offer. And she wasn't alone. She had residents, other attending, and a hospital full of doctors. "I'll be fine."  
"Okay," Adam said with a shrug. He turned to the Latina and made introductions. "This is Gabrielle Solis, your charge nurse for the night. Gabby, have you met Lynette Lindquist? She's the new ER attending."  
"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Lindquist."  
"Call me Lynette."  
Gabrielle nodded to Adam, making it clear that she would personally supervise the new attending's first big case.  
"This is yours, then." Adam said, handing Lynette the trauma pager that came with all shift changes. "Call if you have any problems." He said before walking away.

Lynette clipped the small pager into the belt of her scrub pants and started jogging to the ambulance bay to meet the paramedics and her first patient.  
"Fourteen-year-old female found in full arrest at Fairview playground." A paramedic called out as they rushed a dark-haired teen strapped to a stretcher, down the hall. The other paramedic was on top of the gurney, straddling the girl, performing chest compressions. They arrived in the trauma room and Lynette helped her team transfer the patient to the ER's bed. The first paramedic-Thomas Scavo according to his name tag-was bagging oxygen into the girl's lungs. He switched places with Lynette so she could check breath sounds with her stethoscope. Lynette loved it when resuscitation was almost effortless. As if Tom read her mind he handed her the ophthalmoscope before she needed to ask for it.  
"Her friends said she was fine and suddenly got a frightened look on her face and collapsed. One of her friends started CPR at the scene. We found her in v-fib, shocked her with no result, one round of epi, shocked again and gave her lidocaine." Tom's tone was grim, with good reason. The prognosis of an arrest unresponsive to epi and defibrillation was bad.  
"Drug use? Any past history?" Lynette asked, gliding her hands over the teen's body as she searched for any trauma or other reason for her sudden collapse.  
"Friends said no, but we saw a couple empty bottles of vodka. They said she's healthy."  
"Shock her at 360," Lynette ordered. "Then give her amiodarone."  
"She's needs another round of epi." Tom's partner said as he pushed the stretcher out of the room. Lynette felt Tom's and Gabrielle Solis's gazes on her as she finished assessing the teen. Lynette backed up from the bed to gain a better perspective. A nurse delivered the shock. No change, still v-fib.  
"Her name is Allison Brown." Gabrielle announced taking a wallet out of the girl's purse. Lynette glanced at the charge nurse. She was much shorter then Lynette's 5'5 frame and looked too young to be running and ER this size.  
Lynette watched the monitor as the amiodarone was pushed followed by another shock to the girl's heart. The girl's irregular heartbeat soon went into a normal pattern.  
"V-tach, is there a pulse?" She announced.  
"No pulse," Tom replied. Tom's partner resumed CPR, relieving the nurse. Lynette sucked in a deep breath. Ventricular tachycardia was better than ventricular fibrillation but no pulse was still dead. She thought of the possible causes of arrest. For a healthy teenager, drugs were high on the list. Until the tox screen came back there was little she could do except run the cardiac arrest protocols.  
"How long has she been down?" Lynette asked.  
Tom looked at the clock, "About seven minutes."  
Lynette squeezed one hand tight into a fist and then released it. She hated losing and even worse was losing a kid.  
"Hang an amiodarone drip, defibrillate again at 360 and give another round of epi." She moved to the head of the bed, brushing against Tom.  
After a jolt of electricity went through the patient, Lynette started reassessing the patient. The odds were against her and her patient. Full arrest in the field, not responding to electricity or meds. Lynette knew this wasn't good.  
"She's back in v-fib." Gabrielle announced.  
Lynette knew she was losing the patient. She leaned forward to listen to her breathing again. Then, she stopped listening. What was that smell? Lynette looked at Allison's face. Around her face and mouth a red rash was starting to form.  
"Hold the epi." Lynette said to Gabrielle. "I need one milligram of propranolol."

The room went silent and Lynette saw everybody staring at her. She saw Gabrielle give her a hard glare.

"Give him the propranolol." Lynette repeated.

"That's not protocol, Dr. Lindquist." Gabrielle said. She seemed nervous. A nurse didn't out trump a physician, especially an attending. "There are guidelines for a pulse less arrest."

Fairview nurses were no different from New York nurses. They all believed in protocols. Lynette grabbed a vial of propanolol from the crash cart and filled a syringe.

"We don't have time to argue."

"Epinephrine is the proper drug—"

Lynette cut her off, "If you give her epi, she's dead."

Bree Van De Kamp was a physician's assistant who had started taking on extra shifts in the Emergency Department in addition to shifts in the Pediatric ICU to get more money when her husband Rex, passed away. By now it was familiar territory. She felt relieved she knew everything as she watched the new interns stumbling and bumbling through their first shift.

"Do you know where the suture sets are?" An intern asked Bree. The intern turned out to be her son Andrew. He had wanted to be a doctor just like his father and had managed to get through medical school and decided to do his internship and residency at Fairview Memorial.

"Come with me." Bree said and led Andrew to a storage room, filled with supplies.

"What are you sewing?" Bree asked.

"Head lac, I need five-oh nylon." Andrew answered.

"Here," Bree said, giving him the proper supplies. "How are you getting along?" She asked, seeing that he already looked exhausted.

"Mom, you're a P.A. You should be the one sewing this drunken person up." Andrew said.

"I'm assisting doctors on my own cases." Bree said.

"But I outrank you." Andrew said, rudely. He had been doing that ever since he started medical school.

"And I outrank you."

Bree and Andrew both turned and saw Susan Mayer standing there. She had no lab coat on, just scrubs with her pager and ID badge clipped on her waist.

"Andrew, you're supposed to be suturing Mr. Evans." Susan said. "Do you know how to do a plastics closure?"

"But—" Andrew protested.

Susan glared at Andrew again. He was definitely in for a night of scut work.

"Andrew, you're in a real hospital now. Every patient is a person and every person gets the best care possible. Got it?" Susan said.

"Yes," Andrew answered seriously.

"So, go. Now!" Susan snapped.

Andrew's eyes widened and he sped out of the room. Susan leaned against the wall, laughing.

"You didn't need to torture him like that!" Bree said, defending her son.

Susan smiled, "Sure I did. Those interns need to know whose boss. Especially Andrew."

The two of them noticed a crowd gathering outside one of the trauma rooms.

"What's going on?" Bree asked a nearby nurse.

"The new attending. It's her first code and she's killing the patient."

"Why didn't anyone tell me there was a code?" Susan asked, walking into the trauma room. "I'm the other attending on duty."

Lynette reached for the patients IV with the propranolol in her hand. She was well aware a crowd had gathered and she was getting nervous.

"What's going on?" Susan asked as she grabbed the patient's chart to read Lynette's orders. She looked at Lynette.

"I'm Susan Mayer. The other attending on duty. I usually run the codes. And I know how to follow protocol."

Gabrielle and Susan were standing side by side, blocking Lynette from Allison's IV. The redhead who had entered the room was hovering in the background looking scared.

"Get out of my way." Lynette demanded in a deep voice.

She was surprised when Tom helped her out. He touched Gabrielle's arm and nodded. "Its okay let her give it."

Gabrielle took some steps to the side, looking stiff.

"Dr. Lindquist, I will be reporting this to Dr. Mayfair. If this girl dies, I will not let myself or the other nursing staff be involved."

Lynette ignored Gabrielle and pushed the cardiac medication into her patient's veins. She focused on the heart monitor across from her. [i]Come on[/i]. Twenty second passed with no change.

"I'm giving the epi." Susan announced.

"No," Lynette ordered with her gaze locked on the monitor. Susan reached for the IV but Lynette batted her arm away.

"That epi will kill her." Lynette said to Susan. "Look at that rash. Smell her clothes. She's an inhalant abuser. The solvents make the heart too sensitive to epi. Her adrenaline is poisoning her."

Tom's eyes were fixed on Lynette's face as normal heart beats appeared on the monitor.

"There's a pulse!" the redhead announced.

"Check her blood pressure and start an IV drip." Lynette ordered. The team rushed to follow Lynette's orders now energized.

"I don't think we need this." Lynette said, taking the syringe of epi from Susan. Susan exchanged a glance with Gabrielle before she left the room. When the rest of the trauma room had cleared out Lynette leaned against the counter. She took a deep breath and released it as she tried to calm down. She heard the door open as Tom returned. "Forgot some equipment. Nice call, doctor." He said.

"I was lucky." Lynette said.

"Well, it was still a good call." Tom said.

Lynette didn't believe in luck. She believed in skill, knowledge and facts.

"It was a good save." Tom said as he was about to leave the trauma room.

He was right. Lynette should be grateful she saved the patient.

"Thanks." She said.

"No problem. See you around."

Lynette didn't try to hide her smile as she watched Tom leave. At least she had earned the respect from one medic in Fairview. He was a handsome one, too. Lynette's smile got bigger as she basked in the glow of her success. After growing up with an abusive mom, getting through NYU medical school and thriving during her emergency medicine residency at the busiest hospital in New York City, Lynette was ready for anything Fairview had.

She was more than ready. She was gonna knock 'em dead!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Monday, July 1, 11:47 P.M**

"We've got a trauma coming in." Gabrielle said as she entered the exam room where Bree was watching Lynette perform a spinal tap on a six-week-old baby.

"What is it?" Lynette asked.

"Pedestrian versus car. It doesn't sound too bad. The paramedics report only a few cuts and bruises on the patient. They're ten minutes out."

"I'll be there as soon as I'm finished here. Until then, Susan can run it." Lynette said.

"You're the boss." Gabrielle said.

Lynette wasn't surprised when the charge nurse stayed to observe. It was obvious to Lynette that Gabrielle didn't trust her. Lynette inserted the spinal needle into the baby and the baby didn't react.

"Isn't she supposed to be crying or fighting?" Bree asked.

"Yes, its better that they have energy to fight when they're this young." Lynette answered. It was almost midnight and things had been pretty good during Lynette's first shift. Other than her earlier resuscitation, this baby was the sickest patient she had seen all night. Lynette withdrew the needle and let the spinal fluid flow into the collection tube.

"Push the antibiotics." Lynette ordered Gabrielle. She held up the tube to Bree. "What do you think?"

"It should be clear. Cloudy fluid like that shows meningitis." Bree said.

"Right, call the peds ICU and tell them we're sending a patient up." Lynette said.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Bree asked.

"We got to her early." Lynette answered. They almost hadn't. Andrew had wanted to discharge the baby with a diagnosis of a cold but Lynette had stopped the family in time.

"I hope so." Bree said.

Lynette looked at Gabrielle who was watching from the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest but she nodded in approval.

"Bree, why don't you explain everything to the parents and wait with them until someone from the PICU gets here?"Gabrielle said.

"Of course," Bree agreed and walked away.

Lynette went over to Gabrielle, "About earlier—"

"Dr. Lindquist," Gabrielle interrupted, "I can't have communications breaking down in the middle of a trauma. It's my job to protect the patient—"

"I'm sorry; I should have made my thoughts clear. I apologize." Lynette replied.

Gabrielle relaxed a bit, "It was a good call. None of us are going to forget it anytime soon." A smile started to form. The two heard the sirens outside and jogged to the ambulance bay.

"What do we have?" Lynette asked.

A man strapped to a stretcher with his neck immobilized by a c-collar was being wheeled into the ER. The team, with Susan at the head of the bed in the position of command doctor was cutting off clothes with trauma shears. Lynette noticed the same paramedic, Tom Scavo, nearby.

"Twenty-eight-year-old pedestrian struck by a slow moving vehicle. Patient developed a loss of consciousness and respiratory distress en route." Tom announced. "Pulse ox was a hundred percent the entire time but then he started having difficulty breathing."

"So much for our nice, stable patient. Was he thrown? Hit his head?" Lynette asked, ignoring Susan's glare.

"Not according to witnesses." Tom responded.

Lynette assessed the patient's airway and breathing. He had a tiny cut on his face, nothing serious and no signs of anything he might have choked on. But he struggled to breath, taking irregular breaths.

"No collapsed lung or chest trauma. The only injuries I can find are a few scrapes." Susan said.

Lynette finished her exam and agreed.

"Okay, let's intubate. I'll do it." Lynette said.

Susan stepped to one side. Lynette raced through the different diagnosis of unconsciousness as she took control of the man's airway and help him get the oxygen he needed.

"He might have a head injury. Keep an eye on his vitals. Draw a trauma panel, tox screen, and a blood alcohol level. We'll get an arterial gas when he's tubed. Who's on call for surgery?" Lynette said.

"Carlos Solis is the resident on call for trauma. He hasn't answered his page." Gabrielle answered.

The trauma surgeon should have been here already, even though this was only a level two alert.

"Who's the trauma attending?" Lynette asked.

"Dr. Wilson."

"Forget Solis, get Wilson down here." Lynette ordered.

The trauma team ran around, following Lynette's orders. Lynette slid the laryngoscope to lift the patient's tongue. A pool of saliva blocked her view and she reached out for the suction tube a nurse was holding. After suctioning out the saliva she finished the intubation without any difficulty.

Lynette looked over at Tom, who was frowning as he looked at the monitor. Instead of improving, the patient's blood pressure dropped.

"Where's surgery?" Lynette asked. In New York they'd be already down there and working to help stabilize the patient.

"They haven't answered. I'll page them again." Gabrielle said.

"Susan, help me do a second examination." Lynette said. Together they examined the patient from head to toe searching for injuries. Lynette did an exam with the portable ultrasound to look inside his abdomen and chest and still didn't see anything causing his difficulty breathing.

Lynette laced her fingers through the patients' thick dark hair. No signs of a fracture, no reason for him to be comatose, unless there was a hidden brain contusion or bleed. Except if that was the case, his blood pressure would be high, his pulse low, the opposite of what was happening. An alarm sounded as his blood pressure fell some more.

"We're missing something. Did the surgeons answers?" Lynette was getting frustrated. Her patient was deteriorating and she had no idea why.

"Dr. Wilson is in the OR. He's sending a resident down." Gabrielle answered.

Lynette moved out of the way for the X-ray techs that were shooting films on the spine, chest and pelvis.

"I can't get a pressure." Susan said.

"Hang two units of O neg. DPL tray." Lynette ordered. "Is this the way you usually run your traumas?" Lynette snapped.

"Our doctors have the best resuscitation rate in the state." Gabrielle said a little coldly which reminded Lynette that she was the outsider.

Tom opened a lavage tray as Lynette put on a pair of gloves. Tom frowned but nodded in encouragement. Lynette dumped Betadine over the patient's abdomen and stabbed a lavage catheter into the space around the intestines, hoping the find a source of blood loss to explain his condition. The fluid she withdrew was clear. No help there.

"Heart rates going down." Susan announced.

The trauma looked at Lynette. She had no answers. Was it spinal shock? Lynette's stomach twisted as she thought of the possibilities. She was frustrated she couldn't figure out the injury killing her patient.

"Half a milligram of Atropine. Push the blood. Call CAT scan. We need head, spine, chest and belly." She ordered.

Gabrielle rushed to the phone as an X-ray tech came back with the films taken earlier. Lynette scrutinized the X-rays. They looked perfectly fine.

"Everything looks good. No pneumothorax, no widened mediastinum, no obvious spinal fracture."

Susan joined Lynette and nodded in agreement.

"So, what's going on?" Lynette wondered aloud. The patient looked healthy, like he exercised and took care of himself. No needle tracks or surgical scars.

"Labs are back, "Gabrielle announced. "They're all normal, blood alcohol is only .06."

Lynette had no answers. Everything she did seemed to make things worse. She must've missed something but what?

"I lost his pulse!" Susan called out.

Lynette rushed back to the patient's side and assessed his airway as Tom started CPR. The monitor showed a flat line—Lynette couldn't even shock it.

"Epi, push another unit of blood, let's needle his chest." If Lynette didn't move fast the patient would be dead. She spiked a large-bore catheter through the man's chest wall. Nothing—no rush of air indicating a collapsed lung. Susan did the same thing on the other side. Nothing there either. Lynette wasn't surprised. His oxygen level was still normal. She grabbed the labs.

"Dr. Lindquist, you should know who this patient is." Gabrielle spoke up holding the patient's driver licence.

"I don't care who he is. I just want to find out what's wrong with him so I can treat him." Lynette said, with her tone ruder than she wanted. Lynette had done ever standard resuscitation protocol. Time for the not-so-standard.

"High dose epi," she ordered. "Let's look at his heart again." She grabbed the ultrasound and stopped CPR long enough the scan the cardiac region. No evidence of fluid around the heart, it looked normal it just wasn't beating. She looked at the clock. She knew the patient had been down for too long. A body could only go without oxygen for a short time. She knew her patient was dead but she wished she knew what killed him.

"Stop CPR, check his pulse." She ordered. As Tom checked his carotid pulse, Lynette focused on the monitor wanting it to show a sign of life. Everyone in the room remained silent and backed away from the patient.

"No pulse," Tom announced after a minute.

"Is it okay if I call it?" Lynette asked, sounding surprisingly calm.

One by one the staff nodded Susan and Tom the only ones looking at Lynette. Susan looked pissed while Tom had a look of both sorrow and disappointment.

"Time of death, twelve fifty-six a.m."

Lynette reached over and disconnected the bag from the endotracheal tube. The nurses would do the rest.

"Why do you people keep paging me? Can't you handle a simple trauma?" A voice boomed from outside. A man approached the trauma room, still in his gear from the OR. His ID badge read DAVID WILSON, CHIEF OF SURGERY.

"What took you so long? Where's your resident? Why did no one answer our pages?" Lynette said.

The surgeon glared at Lynette, "Who the hell are you?"

"Lynette Lindquist, the new ER attending."

"Dr. Lindquist, my resident was called to a code in the ICU. Life-and-death situations trump traffic accidents with minor injuries."

"Well, you're too late to help the patient so we don't need your services, Dr. Wilson." Lynette said.

"If you don't need me, then why do you keep paging me?" Dr. Wilson snapped.

"I paged you, Dr. Wilson." Gabrielle said. She walked over to the two of them.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered and handed Dr. Wilson a black wallet. Lynette knew that tone. She'd used it more times than she could count. What was going on here?

Wilson took the wallet and looked inside. He took a ragged breath. The wallet fell from his limp hand and hit the floor.

"No, no, it's impossible!" He pushed past them into the trauma room.

"Nicholas!"

Lynette reached down and grabbed the wallet. The driver's license belonged to a Nicholas Wilson.

"His son." Gabrielle explained.

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Tuesday, July 2, 1:03 A.M.**

His son.

Lynette leaned against the cold tile wall, knowing exactly how David Wilson felt. A collision of anger and fear that sent blood pounding through your head. She took a deep breath and went inside the trauma room. Wilson had pulled the drape back from his son's lifeless body.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked, glaring at Lynette. "Get me a scalpel and a thoracotomy tray. I'll crack his chest. Damn it, Nick, come back!" He looked at Lynette.

"Don't just stand there, move!"

Lynette approached the distraught father, "He's gone. There's nothing we can do."

Wilson tensed up, "You killed him, you killed my son."

A large man, David Wilson towered over her. "Get out of here." He muttered but his tone soon escalated. "Get out of my sight, get out of this hospital!"

Lynette held her ground, "We did everything we could."

"Leave now," Wilson said in a low tone. "Just leave me with my son."

As Lynette left she wished she could get rid of the humiliation she felt when she saw the ER staff staring at her. It was just a few hours ago that she had proven herself. Now they looked at her with pity. Even the paramedics.

"I hope you're proud of the job you did here tonight, Dr. Lindquist." Wilson said. "Because I guarantee, tonight is the last time you will practice medicine in this hospital."

Lynette walked stiffly past the staff, past Tom and his partner. Nothing else she could do except treat her next patient.

And try hard not to kill him.

Bree sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the ER waiting area. The Brown's had left, a nurse bringing them to the PICU where they could see their baby. They were nice people, had done all the right things. Bree had tried to comfort them but all they wanted Bree to do was to guarantee that their child would be fine. As Bree started to stand she felt pins and needles shoot through her left leg. She dropped back into the chair. No one noticed her sudden clumsiness. Bree reached down and started massaging her lower leg. Feet fall asleep all the time she told herself. It didn't mean anything.

She would have believed herself if her leg falling asleep hadn't been the latest in strange occurrences. Sudden dizziness where she would see double and the room would spin. A twitch in her legs, causing her legs to cramp and buckle during the day randomly. But she was sure it was just stress and fatigue. None of her symptoms fit into any syndrome or disease she could find. It was all in her head.

Bree swallowed, everything would be fine. Just fine. She forced herself to smile, a technique she had used for years whenever she was scared. She couldn't afford to be sick-not moneywise or time wise-so, she wasn't sick.

Finally the pins and needles went away. Bree stood up, walked through the waiting room, past the triage nurse, back into the ER.

"Where have you been?" Susan asked, rushing over to her. "You won't believe what happened. The new attending killed Dr. Wilson's son."

Gabrielle paced the hallway, finding it hard to ignore the muffled sounds of grief coming from the closed door of trauma one. She heard footsteps behind her.

"Is he still in there?" Carlos Solis, the fourth-year surgical resident on call, asked.

Carlos looked tired, even more than usual for surgeons who barely took time off. His cheeks were sunken and eyes red rimmed.

"We're going to need the room but I don't want to disturb him." Gabby said, choking back the urge to ask the questions she really wanted Carlos to answer. Like why he looked so bad, why he hadn't answered the trauma alert, what was going on with him?

"I didn't even know Wilson had a son."

"His name was Nicholas."

Carlos still looked exhausted.

"Why didn't you answer your page?" Gabrielle asked him.

"I was busy; I can only be in one place at a time." Carlos answered. "How long do you think he'll be?"

Insensitive even for Carlos. He'd been acting strange for a few weeks. Spending more time with the dog than with Gabby. She had thought it was a good idea, getting a dog together. They had been married for almost a year and it seemed like the next step. Carlos was begging her for kids but Gabby wasn't ready yet so they compromised on getting a dog. Until a few weeks ago, it felt like kids were exactly where the two of them were headed.

The door opened before Gabrielle could talk to Carlos more. David Wilson emerged.

"Gabrielle, how could you let her do this? That attending, Lindquist."

"We did everything we could." Gabrielle said.

Dr. Wilson shook his head, "No, she had to have missed something. She killed my son."

Gabrielle didn't know what to say to that. She glanced down the hallway, happy that Dr. Lindquist was in an exam room, out of sight.

"Is there anything I can do?" Carlos offered.

"Keep an eye on everyone upstairs. Check Ryder's post-op orders on our bowel resection. And please don't kill anybody!" He stormed down the hall while Carlos and Gabby followed.

"Gabrielle, get me Adam Mayfair on the phone, and Willis."

"James Willis? The CEO?" Gabby said. Surely he didn't expect her to wake up the head of the hospital in the middle of the night. It wouldn't do anything. They would need the whole Executive Committee. Gabrielle didn't even know if Lynette had done anything wrong. She seemed better than some ED physicians.

"Yes, James Willis!" Wilson replied. "And I want that woman out of here. Now."

Gabrielle knew Wilson was used to getting his way whenever he threw his weight around in the OR. But this wasn't the OR, this was her ER and she was damned if she was going to start a scandal. She dialed Adam Mayfair's home number. Adam could handle Dr. Wilson; maybe even keep Willis out of this. For Lynette's sake, she hoped so.

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

**Tuesday, July 2, 4:11 A.M**

"We need to talk."

Lynette glanced up from her suturing and saw Adam Mayfair standing there. She'd known that sooner or later someone would call him. She'd hoped it would be later.

"I'll only be a few more minutes." She said surprised at how normal her voice sounded.

"Meet me in my office when you're finished." He looked and sounded tired and the look on his face wasn't the same friendly look that had greeted her at the start of her shift. But of course, that was before she let the chief of surgery's son die.

Lynette continued placing stitches, taking great care to evert the wound edges and exert just the right amount of tension on the nylon. It was a little after four in the morning. ER's were usually quiet then but tonight it was really somber. Lynette was happy she had found this quiet area and an even quieter patient, except for his occasional snoring. She was occupying her time to keep her out of range of the whispers and stares that were becoming more hateful.

She had lost patients before, but she had never faced the possibility that she had killed one. There had been many cases that made her angry or sad. Except none of them had ever made her feel this horrible. If only she knew why Nicholas Wilson had died...

Lynette cut the last suture and went to face Adam Mayfair. Lynette paused outside his office and took a deep breath. She knocked and entered.

Adam had an office in the administrative wing of the hospital. Unlike his neighbours in administration, he had no fancy office suite. His furniture was shabby and came from a second-hand store. It was cramped and dark. Instead of expensive artwork, his walls were covered with portraits of a woman with red hair who Lynette presumed was his wife. He was sitting at his desk watching a video. Lynette realized it was the tape from the Nicholas Wilson resuscitation.

Cameras in the trauma rooms were standard for a teaching hospital like Fairview Memorial. The videos were reviewed at the weekly Morbidity and Mortality conferences where protocols and procedures were discussed and mistakes dissected. Adam was at the part where Lynette had told Gabrielle she didn't care who the patient was. He paused the tape.

"I'll be finishing your shift." Adam told her.

"I can finish my shift." Lynette sounded defensive and weak.

"No, you can't. Effective immediately, you're on probation. No patient care except under direct supervision of an attending."

"You're treating me like a medical student?" Lynette said, in shock. "For how long?"

"Until the Executive Committee meets on Friday and decides whether to terminate your privileges."

"Terminate?" Things were worse than Lynette thought. She'd been expecting a chart review, a good hammering during next week's M&M. But getting fired?

"But Adam—"

Adam held up his hand and Lynette stopped her protesting.

"It wasn't up to me, I'm sorry. This came from James Willis, the hospital's CEO. The Executive Committee will also be considering any further action in addition to termination of your employment."

With the hospital's CEO involved, her fate was out of Adam's hands. If a complaint was filed with the state medical board, she might be out of a career. There would probably be a malpractice or wrongful death action also.

"I've reviewed the tapes of both of your resuscitations tonight. That was a good call on the Brown girl." Adam's voice was friendlier now.

"I also reviewed your dictation and the nurses' notes from the Wilson case. Do you mind giving me your version of what happened?"

Here was Lynette's chance to clear her name but even she couldn't really tell what had happened in the trauma room.

"When the initial call came in things didn't sound too bad. I called a trauma alert anyway because of the mechanism of injury. The next I heard the patient had deteriorated en route and the medics didn't have time to call in."

Adam nodded; these things happened. "What did your initial assessment reveal?"

"I couldn't find anything to treat. I wanted him to get a CT scan, but he arrested before I could do that."

"Take me through what you were thinking." Adam said.

"Spinal shock, head injuries, aortic dissection, but nothing matched the clinical presentation." She paused, "is there going to be an autopsy?"

There had to be. An autopsy was the only way Lynette would find out what had caused Nicholas Wilson's death. But if the results revealed it was her fault, her career was over.

"David Wilson requested an autopsy," Adam replied. "It's at nine this morning."

That surprised her. In New York it took weeks to schedule a routine autopsy. The thought of the autopsy scared her but least she wouldn't have to wait to find out if she was guilty.

"He also contacted the district attorney's office." Adam continued. "A criminal complaint might be filed."

Lynette felt her breathing stop. Losing her job was bad, but jail? "Criminal charges? What—"

"Negligent homicide, involuntary manslaughter. I suggest you find an attorney. Since you're on probation you're not allowed to use the hospital's legal services. "

Adam leaned in closer to Lynette. "Lynette, this is a very serious matter. You could lose everything."

Lynette nodded and felt like crying. And Lynette never cried in front of anyone.

"I know you don't know anyone here in Fairview so I put together a list of well respected attorneys." Adam gave Lynette a piece of paper.

"The name at the top, Katherine Mayfair, is my wife. If you don't think it is a conflict of interest, I highly recommend her."

Lynette looked at him, "Do you think there's a conflict of interest? Could I have done anything differently? Would you have done anything different?"

"I think you performed admirably." Adam said, honestly.

Lynette felt a bit more relaxed now. "Then how the hell can Willis and the Executive Committee presume I'm guilty?"

"Fairview isn't New York. Especially when it comes to men in power like David Wilson. But you know the autopsy might prove both of us wrong."

They were both silent. Lynette placed her hands on her thighs, feeling them shake. It would be a miracle if she got her privileges back, even if the autopsy revealed that she hadn't missed anything.

"Go home, Lynette. Get some rest." Adam said.

Lynette stood up, "I was supposed to do a ride-along with Med Seven on Wednesday."

"Don't you want to take some time off?" Adam asked.

"I need to keep busy. I can go and just observe. I promise I won't do any patient care." Lynette replied.

Adam didn't look happy.

"Please Adam," Lynette begged. "I need to feel like I'm still doing something."

"Fine, but absolutely no patient care. If I hear of you as so much as putting a Band-aid on someone, I'm not defending you. If you break your probation, that's grounds for immediate dismissal."

Lynette nodded and tried to focus her thoughts on where she needed to go next, what she needed to do. She refused to think of the possibility that Nicholas Wilson might be her last patient. Refused to think that he would be the last person she would ever treat. Refused to think that she might never practice medicine again.

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Tuesday, July 2, 5:21 AM**

Lynette changed out of her scrubs, left out of the ER's back entrance and dragged her feet along the sidewalk. She was heading towards the inexpensive motel she was staying in. She went into her room and took her jeans off. She threw on a T-shirt and jogging pants. There was no way she would be able to sleep. Putting her room key into her pocket and grabbed her running shoes and headed out for an early morning run. She ran past the cemetery that was beside Fairview Memorial and past the hospital. She kept running having no clue where was heading. She just wanted to clear her mind and make her forget everything that had happened in the past few hours. She ran into a residential area which she saw was called Wisteria Lane.

It was hard for her to accept that idyllic contentment was a reality for so many people. To the people who lived here, the world Lynette grew up in would be the stuff of nightmares. Lynette was the parent and had to parent her mom and two sisters. As soon as Lynette was 18 she ran away and got accepted into Columbia University where she studied biology before moving on to study medicine. College felt like a million years ago to her.

She had always had dreams of having a real family. Fairview was her chance to make those dreams come true. The enormity of what she might lose if she was found responsible for Nicholas Wilson's death hit her hard. She'd been fights before: street fights, fights with her mother but nothing like this. This was a fight where none of her defence mechanisms would help, where her survival depended on the opinions of strangers. She paused in front of the house at the very end of the lane to catch her breath.

Maybe she should have cracked Nicholas's chest. It wasn't protocol in trauma cases like this one but she could have tried. Or maybe if she'd pushed the blood faster—or perhaps he had died from too many fluids, too fast.

No matter where she started she still ended up with a dead man. He'd deserved the best she could give him and she couldn't convince herself that was what he had received. What the hell had she missed? There had to have been something.

Susan leaned back against the desk at the nurses' station. It was seven AM; she had a clear board other than the patients waiting to be admitted upstairs. A perfect end to a shift.

"Has anyone seen Andrew?"

"Who?" the desk clerk asked.

"Andrew Van De Kamp. The new intern, Bree's son."

"I ask Patricia to instruct him in the fine art of cleaning up after a Code Brown." Gabrielle said, handing her trauma radio over to Lisa, the charge nurse on days. She joined Susan. "Asshole thought he could leave the nurses to deal with it."

"Guess he's learned that interns are at the bottom of the food chain. You headed to Grand Rounds?" Susan said.

They were interrupted by Adam Mayfair with a nervous looking college-aged kid. "Susan, Gabrielle, are you two back on tonight?"

"Nope, we're both off." Susan answered.

"Okay, well I'll find someone else than. This is Dan Ryder. He's a student at Fairview University; he'll be shadowing some night-shift workers for a paper."

"Self-Reported Stress Levels in Night-shift Medical Workers." Dan said. "It's my honours thesis."

"Are you pre-med?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yep," Dan said, nodding.

Susan smile: maybe she could get Andrew to do some actual work for once. "Why don't you tag along with Andrew Van De Kamp?"

"I hadn't thought of an intern." Adam said, "That's a good idea. No one's more stressed than they are, especially so early in the year. Our start of the year is July first, the day the new interns start. I'll talk to Andrew."

"Nice meeting you ladies." Dan said as he walked away, following Adam.

"They get younger every year." Susan muttered.

"Did you say you were going to Grand Rounds?" Gabrielle asked.

"As soon as Bree gets here." Susan replied.

Grand Rounds was from eight until eleven, two hours of lectures followed by the Morbidity & Mortality meeting. Most attendings not on duty, many nurses and all of the residents and medical students would be in attendance.

Most residents slept for the first two hours unless the attending kept them awake with a really great lecture. Then came the M & M conference. All the doctors involved in the case would be grilled.

"I'll save you two seats. Want to have lunch after?" Gabrielle asked. "I want to talk to you about what happened with Dr. Wilson's son. Do you think we did something wrong?"

The case puzzled Susan as well. As nice as it had been to see the cocky new attending get busted, she hated codes going wrong. "It's not our problem. The attendings are the ones who take the heat when things go wrong. I'm betting that Dr. Lindquist's first day was also her last."

Gabrielle looked worried, as if she cared what happened to the new attending.

"That's exactly what Dr. Wilson said."

"Gabby, it's not our problem. It's Lynette's."

Bree joined them, moving a little slow after the long night.

"Where have you been?" Susan asked her.

"Up in the PICU, checking on the meningitis baby. "

"Is she doing okay?" Gabrielle asked.

Bree nodded, "It looks like she'll be just fine. It's a good thing Dr. Lindquist picked up on how sick she was. Andrew was about to send her home." Andrew shook her head disapprovingly.

"Hey, why didn't Carlos come down for our trauma?" Susan asked Gabrielle. "Although, maybe it's lucky he didn't. Wilson might have been blaming him."

Gabrielle frowned as she led the way to the auditorium where Grand Rounds were held. "Wilson said he was at a code in the ICU."

"But you'd think we would have sent someone else."

Bree interrupted, "Did you say a code? Up in the ICU?"

"That's what Wilson said." Gabrielle replied.

"Hmm, when I was up there the nurses said it was a miracle they'd gone all day without a code despite it being July first."

"Too bad we weren't as lucky." Susan said, noticing the confused look on Gabrielle's face. Lately Susan had been hearing strange rumours about Carlos missing pages while he was on call. One medical intern had even told her she'd seen Carlos wandering the hallway barefoot.

Susan wasn't about to meddle. Before he met Gabby he had had a reputation among the nurses and other staff members. It had taken him several attempts to get Gabby to go out with him and even longer for him to get her to marry him. But ever since they had started dating he had settled down and hadn't given her any reason to worry.

Until now.

"I'm sure Wilson was mistaken." Susan said. She hated the look of anxiety Gabby had. "He was probably just trying to cover his ass for no one showing up to a trauma alert."

Gabby looked distant, "Yeah, you're right, probably."

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Tuesday, July 2, 8:45 AM**

Lynette pulled her car into the parking lot behind the concrete building that housed the Fairview medical examiner. The guard at the front desk scrutinized her New York driver's license before giving her a visitor's pass. Getting a new driver's license was on her list of things to do, along with finding a place to live.

Unfortunately, the search wasn't going too well. For some reason when real estate agents heard doctor they insisted on showing her houses way out of her price range.

She waited while the guard called one of the morgue assistants to bring her to the autopsy suite.

"Dr. Lindquist?" A woman in scrubs approached her. "I'm Amanda Black, Dr. Jonathan Timmerman's assistant. Follow me."

She led Lynette down a corridor with the familiar smell of chemicals which said [i]hospital[/i] to Lynette. Her comfort zone.

"This your first time here?" Amanda asked.

"Yes, I'm new in town."

"Dr. Timmerman is the head medical examiner here. He's scheduled to do your case."

They entered a room "Would you like some coffee?" Amanda offered. "Dr. Timmerman is reviewing the patient's medical records; it'll be a few minutes."

Amanda poured them both coffee and sank into a chair at the table. Lynette joined her.

"Are you expecting anyone else?" Lynette asked, praying that David Wilson wasn't planning on attending. She didn't think she would be able to face Nicholas's father, not here under these circumstances. Seeing Nicholas again would be hard enough.

Amanda shrugged, "We weren't expecting you but the attending physician is always welcome. Would you like to watch it on a monitor or scrub in?"

Lynette wanted to see this in as much detail as possible. "Where do I change?"

"There are scrubs in the other room. Just put them on over your street clothes. Oh and don't mind Dr. Timmerman—he won't like you coming in."

"Why's that?" Lynette asked, curious.

"He hates people messing with his routine. He's the best M.E we have, very through and meticulous. He has his own way of doing things. He likes taking his time."

That sounded exactly like the M.E Lynette needed. Someone who could explain Nicholas Wilson's death.

"How long have you worked here?" Lynette asked.

"I just started working here last year but I've been a morgue assistant for about ten years." She took a sip of her coffee. "It's a good job, very interesting. I'm always learning something new. "

Amanda left and appeared again on a monitor. On the table lay Nicholas's body.

Lynette finished her coffee, trying to distract herself. Amanda returned with photocopies. "You can keep these. I'm going to go get Dr. Timmerman."

Lynette reviewed the reports. There were copies of her dictation, the labs and nurses notes. Also included were the police report and the EMS run sheet.

According to witnesses, Nicholas Wilson had been leaving The Tavern, a bar in Fairview. The bartender had served him a glass of wine and stated that he did not get intoxicated. His friends said he had complained of a headache and left to go home at about midnight. As he was crossing the street he swerved directly into the path of an oncoming car.

Lydia glanced up from the reports and thought of the headache Nicholas was complaining about. It could have been caused by a brain aneurism. Maybe even a tumour or encephalitis. The door opened. A man wearing a lab coat and glasses walked in.

"Dr. Timmerman." Lynette stood up. "I'm Dr. Lynette Lindquist from Fairview Memorial. I'm here to observe the Wilson autopsy."

Timmerman glanced down at the hand Lynette offered with a look of disgust on his face. Then his gaze rose to her face. No doubt about it, she wasn't welcome here.

"I know who you are." He ignored the hand Lynette offered. "You need to know that I don't care what agenda you have but I will find out what killed Nicholas Wilson.

Lynette frowned, confused. An agenda? He acted as if the case was personal to him. "I have no clue what you're talking about. All I want to know is why my patient died."

"You mean you don't know who Nicholas Wilson was?"

"I know he was David Wilson's son. But I didn't learn that until after he was dead. Is that important?"

Timmerman shook his head. "Nick and his father haven't—hadn't—spoken in years. You've never heard of GOAD?"

"No, what is it?" Lynette asked. She was surprised about Timmerman's attitude. They should be focusing on the resuscitation.

"A group Nicholas created. Gay's Organized Against Discrimination. He's been all over the news with it. He was planning a rally on the fourth."

"Dr. Timmerman I really have no idea what you're talking about. I just moved here from New York a few days ago."

He still looked distrustful but nodded. "All right, then. If you say so."

"Dr. Timmerman," Lynette began. "You seem as if you knew Nicholas Wilson personally. Isn't it a conflict of interest for you to perform his autopsy?"

"If you're implying that I'm biased in any way, I can assure you I'm not." Timmerman's cold tone returned. "All I want to know is what killed Nicholas and who is responsible. I requested this case because I'm the best advocate for the deceased. But yes, I did know Nicholas. And no, it won't interfere with my judgement in any way." With that he left the room.

Lynette started at the doorway he had just exited from. She realized that Fairview was definitely a small town and she was a very big outsider. She was the person about to get blamed for Nicholas's death.

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Tuesday, July 2, 9:22 AM**

Lynette was changing into a pair of blue scrubs when Tom Scavo entered.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

Tom grabbed a pair of scrubs from the shelf, "Same as you, probably."

Paramedics didn't normally attend autopsies. Actually Lynette had never seen one attend one. If anything went wrong it was the attending physician who was blamed, not the medics.

"Why didn't you tell me Nicholas was complaining of a headache before he was hit by the car?"

"I did," Tom protested.

"No, you didn't."

"I'm sure we did. Anyway, it wouldn't have made a difference if we hadn't."

"He could have had a brain aneurysm, a tumour, increased intracranial pressure from a subdural—"

"None of which you could have fixed. And all of those would have presented with different symptoms. Don't try to blame what happened on me or my crew."

Lynette had been about to open the door to go into the autopsy suite but turned around. "Do you really think I'm here to find a way to blame you?"

"It's happened before. You've obviously dissected the run report already, looking for ammunition." Tom retorted.

"I need to know what killed my patient."

"Our patient," Tom reminded her before stalking past her and entering the autopsy suite. Lynette got a glance of Nicholas's naked body lying below the spotlight in the room next door. She stood frozen and let the door swing shut.

Whatever happened on the other side of that door was going to decide her future. And she had no control over it. If she had caused Nicholas's death, she would deal with it, could deal with it. Steadying herself with one deep breath she reached out and pulled the open.

Timmerman glanced up, scowling at the intrusion before he resumed his discussion of Nicholas's physical characteristics, finished his preliminary measurements and photographs. Tom was leaning against the wall watching.

Amanda was taking notes. She had a portable digital scale to her side and a specimen table behind her. She handed Lynette a white surgical mask.

"At the family's request we're videotaping so please don't talk unless it's absolutely necessary." Amanda whispered.

Lynette nodded and wondered if David Wilson would watch the tape or if it was just for a lawyer's benefit. She went and stood beside Tom. He moved over a little bit.

Timmerman impressed Lynette. He was very thorough and moved at an efficient pace. He and the autopsy tech quickly examined, measured, and photographed the external injuries. Then the tech made the Y-shaped incision, cutting through the ribs with heavy-duty shears.

Lynette shifted from one foot to the other as the dissection continued. Amanda took each individual organ as the other autopsy tech removed it from the body, weighed it, and then handed it to Timmerman, who examined it on the specimen table. Timmerman kept a running commentary on his findings and totally ignored Tom and Lynette.

Once the chest was done, they moved onto the abdominal cavity. The tech removed the stomach and handed it to Amanda for weighing. Amanda placed it on the scale with a squishy plop. Lynette realized something. She reached out her hand to block Amanda from retrieving the organ. The morgue attendant looked up in surprise.

"Wait," she said, interrupting Timmerman's monologue as he commented on the lung tissue in front of him. Tom stepped forward. There was an abrupt silence as everyone stared at Lynette. While, in Timmerman's case, glare at her.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked.

Lynette leaned forward to sniff at the specimen on the scale. "You don't smell that?"

Amanda pulled down her mask and inhaled deeply. She frowned. "There is something. I'm not certain what. Maybe it's something he ate." She gave Lynette a motherly look. "I usually just try to ignore that smell."

Lynette shook her head. She couldn't deny what she'd smelt. It was a sharp, rancid odour. It was unnatural. Lynette took another smell. "No it's something else." She turned to Timmerman. "Do you smell it?"

Timmerman scowled at her, "Are you implying that our patient here is a victim of cyanide poisoning?" He scoffed. "Dr. Lindquist, if you think it is that easy to evade any responsibility you have for this man's death—"

"Just try to smell it." Lynette interrupted.

Tom went over near Lynette, craned his head over the table and inhaled. "I don't smell anything."

Timmerman leaned forward, lowered his mask and sniffed.

"How on earth does a pedestrian hit by a car end up dying of cyanide poisoning?" Lynette thought out loud.

Timmerman didn't reply, "I don't smell anything."

It was obvious he thought she was crazy. She didn't blame him. She'd never even come across a case of cyanide toxicity before. Plus, cyanide toxicity was always from either smoke inhalation or self-inflicted—not from getting hit by a car. But Lynette couldn't deny it. The smell kept getting stronger.

"Try again; I swear I'm not making this up."

Timmerman took a deeper inhalation this time but shook his head. "Nothing, now let's get back to work."

"More than half of the population lacks the gene to smell cyanide. " Lynette reminded him, remembering that from a high school biology class. She was certain there was something there.

"Look how red his lung tissue is." She pointed out. "Shouldn't it be a darker blue from lack of oxygen?"

Timmerman looked at the lungs. They were two reddish blobs of tissue shimmering under a bright light. Timmerman frowned.

"How the hell could Nicholas Wilson have ingested cyanide?"

"I have no idea, but it fits." Lynette said. "The headache he complained of, the sudden respiratory distress...no wonder everything I did made things worse. There are very specific antedotes for cyanide toxicity, and without them death is certain."

"If cyanide is present, there must be an explanation." Timmerman said "It is not necessarily the cause of death. Was he on a nipride drip? Something else that could have been metabolized into cyanide?"

"No," Lynette answered.

"Don't look at us." Tom said, sounding defensive. "We ran a basic trauma protocol: O2, saline, monitoring. No drugs."

"A drug misadventure is the most likely reason. One of your people hung up the wrong medication."

"No, when he arrived he was in respiratory distress by he wasn't cyanotic." Lynette argued, "The cyanide was already in his system, displacing oxygen from his red blood cells. It explains the normal labs. He had enough oxygen; it just wasn't doing him any good."

"Hmm, well that would certainly take you off the hook, wouldn't it?" Timmerman said rudely.

This time Lynette glared at him, "All I'm asking is that you keep an open mind and run an analysis. You said you were the victim's advocate, unbiased. Doesn't that mean you have to investigate every possibility?"

"This isn't a possibility, it's an impossibility. "

"What would it hurt?" Tom asked, surprising Lynette by taking her side of the argument. The paramedic seemed like a peacemaker when he didn't doubt her motives.

"We'll run tests for cyanide." Timmerman gave in. "But it might be pointless—cyanide is difficult to test for."

"But you'll try?" Lynette asked, hopeful.

"Don't get your hopes up. It's probably a post-mortem contaminant." He said.

Timmerman refused to believe that Wilson might have been poisoned. Amanda had said he wouldn't draw any conclusions until he had all the evidence before him.

"Let's get back to work here!" He snapped.

The remainder of the autopsy was uneventful. There was no obvious injury Lynette had missed. But there was still no obvious cause of death. The analysis of the tissues would take days, maybe even weeks. Unless Timmerman could document the presence of cyanide, she would have nothing to defend herself with at the Executive Committee's meeting. Everyone would assume Nicholas died because of something she had done or failed to do.

Back in the locker room, Lynette took off her scrubs and tossed them into a trash can. Tom was right behind her.

"Let me buy you lunch." Tom offered.

"I thought I was the bad guy—trying to blame you and your crew for my mistake."

"Sorry about that, it's happened before." Tom apologized. "It's just lunch."

Lynette felt hungry, lunch would be nice. "I'm already late for an appointment."

"Sure you're not blowing me off?" Tom asked with a grin which was infectious. Lynette found herself smiling.

"I'm meeting my lawyer. Trying to save my job."

"But if you're right about the cyanide, then Nicholas's death wasn't your fault." Tom replied.

"Even if cyanide was present, I won't be able to explain it. The Executive Committee will react just like Timmerman—thinking I screwed up. They'll assume I'm trying to pin it on anything else. After all, why would someone want to kill Nicholas Wilson?"

Tom smirked, "In that case, you're screwed."

"That's helpful," Lynette said sarcastically.

"Just let me buy you lunch." Tom offered again.

"Sorry but I'm already late." She opened the door but Tom grabbed her arm. She yanked it away.

"Okay, just don't try anything stupid." Tom said.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. But I need to try something." Was this worth fighting for?

"Why? You just said it probably won't save your job."

Lynette's mind was made up, "It has nothing to do with my job. He was my patient. I'm not giving up until I know what killed him."

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter eight**

**Tuesday, July 2, 10:02 AM**

Bree sneaked out of the darkened auditorium during the second lecturer's question-and-answer session. She was exhausted and bored.

The first lecture wasn't too bad. A lot of statistics but it was interesting. But the second lecture...she yawned as she pulled the door open and slipped into the hallway. The last hour had been an accountant flashing PowerPoint slides filled with columns of indecipherable codes and complaining about the doctors.

Who wanted that after staying up all night? Bree went to the washroom down the hall from the auditorium. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to convince her body that it didn't need sleep. She dried her face and got out a sealed foil packet from her short lab coat, and quickly swallowed the pills inside. Dr. Campbell had told her to take her vitamins at breakfast, so she figured this was close enough. During her last check-up at the research clinic, he had hinted that she might be on the medication side of the double-blind placebo-controlled study of his new nutritional supplements, and that if she was, she could expect to feel more energy, less fatigue.

Bree looked in the mirror before she left; convincing herself she felt the vitamins already kicking in.

A crowd was milling around the coffee and donuts, the hospital's version of a nutritious breakfast. She saw Susan, assumed Gabby was nearby. She edged her way through the crowd of medical students, residents, interns and nurses. Not attendings. Attendings went to the physician's lounge where they were served lattes, cappuccinos, bagels, donuts, eggs, bacon, hash browns or whatever other breakfast they desired.

Bree was lucky if she was able to get a donut before they were gone. She had no idea how the attending's did it. How did they learn so much in such a short time? Dr. Lindquist had been an attending for only a day, yet she had diagnosed a baby with meningitis just by hearing it cry.

Bree knew they had made Dr. Lindquist finish her shift early because of what had happened with Dr. Wilson's son. She hoped everything was okay, that Dr. Lindquist would be back soon—she'd learned a lot of things from her in one night.

"Mom," a hand grabbed her by the elbow as she was about to take a donut. She turned around and looked at Andrew.

"What do you want?" she said, too tired to be polite.

"You stole my patient."

"What are you talking about?"

"The spinal tap."

Bree sighed, "Dr. Lindquist pulled me into the room. I didn't even know it was your patient until I spoke with the parents. While we waited for a resident from the PICU, after we admitted your patient for a life-threatening illness that she may still die from, and after you told the parents to take her home because she had a cold."

"There was nothing wrong with that baby when I saw her. I examined her from head to toe. That doesn't excuse the fact that you stole a procedure from me. You owe me."

Bree felt very angry right now at her son, "I don't owe you anything. You owe Dr. Lindquist a thank you and the Millers an apology. They're on the fourth floor in the PICU. The baby is doing fine, by the way, if you even care."

With that she turned around and walked away. Only to stop when she saw Susan standing a few feet away, watching and listening, grinning.

"Nice," Susan said. "Especially since he's your son."

Gabrielle joined them, glaring at Andrew. She gave Bree a donut. "Here, you've earned this.

Susan steered them back inside the cafeteria, "Come on, let's see who's getting their ass kicked this week."

Lynette rushed up the porch steps of the house that was the location of Katherine Mayfair's law practice, ten minutes late for her eleven o'clock appointment.

It was on Wisteria Lane where she had been before and she had been forced to drive around the cul-de-sac several times to find parking before she'd found a spot on a side street. Her once crisp linen shirt now clung to her, all sweaty and wrinkly which ruined any chances of a good first impression.

A man's voice carried clearly through the windows. A strange rhythm, perhaps it was a prayer?

A wheelchair-accessible ramp wove up the other side of the porch. Lynette attempted to smooth out the wrinkles on her shirt the best she could before she opened the door and stopped.

In the center of the reception area stood a tall man, arms outstretched wide. His head was tilted back, with his eyes closed. He had a huge smile.

Another man was shouting as he was being escorted out of the office on the other side of the reception area. "We are going to get that permit somehow! They can't stop us!"

The first man stopped praying and placed his arms by his side as he straightened. He beamed at Lynette. The second man joined him, shaking the first's arm while looking at Lynette. He head a wifebeater on—perfect for displaying his collection of swastikas, flaming crosses and other skinhead tattoo's.

"Dr. Lindquist?" The young women who had escorted the man from the office asked as she sat down at the reception desk. "Have a seat; Ms. Mayfair will be with you in a moment."

"A doctor?" The tall man said, his attention going to Lynette. His eyes were a piercing grey. "You practice the art of healing?"

Lynette looked at the receptionist and found no help there. Her gaze was on her computer screen.

The second man frowned, still tugging on the other man's arm. "We don't have time for this shit, Matthew."

"Always time for a convert, Hampton," the tall man said to his companion. He turned his stare on Lynette. "You think you can save a life?"

"I try."

The man's smile widened. "Don't you realize it's all in God's hands? No mortal can change his plans. So why do you even try?"

"Someone has to."

He raised his eyebrow, "True believers have no need of your feeble attempts to intercede in the creator's grand design."

"You can go in now, Dr. Lindquist." The receptionist said.

Lynette had no choice but to turn to the side when she passed the man. His tattooed friend snickered as Lynette walked past. What kind of a lawyer was Katherine Mayfair if these were her clients?

"Here's Dr. Lindquist, Mom." The receptionist said. Lynette was surprised that the receptionist was Katherine's daughter.

Lynette stepped inside the doorway, still hesitant. The room faced the front porch. Two windows were opened which caused the curtains to gently blow in the breeze. Katherine Mayfair looked to be in her late forties. She had red/brown hair, green eyes and a hint of freckles.

"Do you want tea or coffee?" the receptionist offered Lynette.

"Nothing for me, thanks." Lynette said.

"No thanks, Dylan." The receptionist left and Katherine pushed herself back from her desk, moving a wheelchair forward to greet Lynette. "Call me Katherine." She said, thrusting her hand out.

Lynette shook it, and then sat down in one of the chairs across from Katherine's desk.

Katherine's legs were in a pair of black dress pants with a pair of black flats. No obvious signs of atrophy Lynette could find. Either the attorney didn't need the wheelchair all the time or she hadn't used it for long.

"Adam's message said you're involved with Nicholas Wilson. If it's about the protest, I'm sorry but you're out of luck. I'm already representing other interests."

"Other interests?" Lynette said, confused.

Katherine laughed and returned behind her desk. "You just met him." She nodded towards the reception area. "Matthew Kent. The leader of the Sons of Adam. So obviously I can't help you if you're looking for a permit for July fourth. It's a conflict of interest. Who are you working with?"

"Excuse me?" Lynette said, now really confused. What did the Fourth of July have to do with Nicholas Wilson or his death? Jonathan Timmerman had mentioned the holiday as well.

"What's your agenda?" Katherine asked. "Right to Life? Homemakers for God?"

Lynette shook her head, now certain she had hired the wrong lawyer.

Katherine frowned, "You're not here about the protests on the Fourth?"

"Nope."

"But Adam said it was about Nicholas. Did Adam tell you what kind of a lawyer I am?"

"No, why?"

"Dr. Lindquist, I work for the ACLU. I represent parties whose civil rights are being violated."

"You're a civil liberties lawyer?"

Katherine nodded, "I've worked for Holocaust survivors and the NAACP. I handle all sorts of clients whose policies I may disagree with." Katherine shrugged. "Like Matthew Kent and his organization, the Sons of Adam. "

"I don't think I qualify then. " What had Adam been thinking? "My case has nothing to do with the constitution or civil liberties."

"Adam told me that you needed help and it had to do with Nicholas, so I assumed—anyway never mind what I assumed. I apologize."

"Don't worry about it." Lynette said with a smile. She liked Katherine Mayfair. Her warm attitude was refreshing after Jonathan Timmerman's chilly reception.

"So, why are you here if it's not about the GOAD protest?" Katherine asked curiously.

"I'm here because I'm the physician who worked on Nicholas Wilson early this morning when he passed away." That sounded better than saying she was the doctor everyone thought killed Nicholas Wilson.

"Nick's dead?" Katherine said, with a look of shock. "I just spoke with him yesterday. What happened?"

Lynette told Katherine the events surrounding Nicholas's death, including his father's accusations and her new suspicions that his death happened because of cyanide poisoning. Saying everything out loud, she suddenly felt stupid. She had no proof or evidence, only silly theories. Even more absurd was that her future depended on proving that a murderer was roaming the streets of Fairview.

"I think it's a good thing Adam sent you to me." Katherine said.

"So you actually believe me?"

"Let's just say I'm not making assumptions that Nicholas's death was accidental."

"But if you're a civil rights lawyer than how can you help me?" Lynette argued even though she was relieved to have someone on her side.

"I know who all of Nicholas's enemies are."

To Be Continued


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine**

**Tuesday, July 2, 11:27 AM**

Katherine sent Dylan out to get lunch while she and Lynette continued their discussion.

"GOAD is a group that Nicholas started while he was a law student." Katherine was explaining when Dylan returned with a paper bag. She left and quickly came back with a handful of pills and a glass of water, then stood and watched until Katherine finished swallowing them. Lynette thought it was sweet how Dylan took care of Katherine.

"Gays Organized Against Discrimination. Nicholas worked part-time for Fairview University and was upset by their refusal to offer same-sex partner benefits. He formed GOAD, sued them, and Fairview U has one of the best policies in the state. That was how Nicholas's career as a gay rights activist was born—which is when his relationship with his father fell apart. David Wilson could handle a gay son as long as he was discreet, not one who was on the front page and six o'clock news constantly. Nick was involved in one protest after another, constantly being arrested and refusing bail so that he could use his court dates as a public forum."

"It sounds like he was pretty militant."

Katherine took a bite of her tuna sandwich, "That's an understatement. Nicholas's private life was a mess, but when he was in the spotlight he felt like he had everything. Like he was finally in control of something."

"You sound you knew Nicholas pretty well." Lynette said, after taking a bite of her turkey sandwich.

"I was one of his professor's in law school. You didn't know you were dealing with an academic, did you?" Katherine said with a wistful smile. "I quit teaching after I was diagnosed MS a few years ago. Now I work part-time for the ACLU. I can work from home so my bad days don't slow me down." She shrugged, making light of the hand fate had dealt her.

"So, who would want to kill Nicholas Wilson?" Lynette asked.

"That's the problem. Nick had a lot of enemies."

"Murder though? That seems personal."

"Anything to do with GOAD is personal to Nicholas. You see, Nicholas is—was—one of those people who could find followers to his cause and inoculate them with the same passion he felt."

"He had charisma."

Katherine nodded, "He inspired the people who came to him, almost in a religious way. But he was also a narcissist and wanted those close to him to keep proving their faithfulness by sacrificing more and more of themselves because of the cause."

"It could be someone he pushed too far. A scorned lover?" Lynette suggested.

"Nicholas was involved with Jonathan Timmerman until a few months ago." Katherine said.

Lynette choked on her Diet Coke, "The medical examiner? The one who did Nicholas's autopsy? How could he call himself a neutral party—he should never have been allowed near that body."

She remembered how Timmerman had judged her immediately and assumed she was responsible for Nicholas's death. Could Timmerman have killed Nicholas?

"What happened? Why did they break up?"

"Nick and Jonathan were leaving The Tavern one night when they found some punks vandalizing Nick's car. Nick immediately confronted them. He punched one of them, broke the kid's nose. Jonathan was trying to break them up, but Nick wanted Jonathan to help him. Then things got pretty bad. One of the kids pulled a gun on Jonathan. They held him back while they beat Nick, forcing Jonathan to watch."

"They broke up because Jonathan was upset with Nicholas for escalating the violence?" Lynette clarified.

Katherine nodded, "He felt it was Nicholas's fault for attacking the kid. If they'd just walked away the only damage would have been to the car. The police agreed."

"So, the kids got off?"

Katherine nodded again, "Except for the injured one, the rest ran away. After Jonathan told the cops that Nick was the one who had hit the kid—"

Lynette figured it out, "They weren't going to press charges."

"Yes, Nick blamed Jonathan for not siding with him and publicly called Jonathan a coward and a traitor. That ended things."

Lynette though about that, "The Tavern is the same bar Nicholas was at last night before he died."

"It's a gay bar. Pretty low-key except when skinheads get the idea to go gay-bashing."

"Or perhaps slip cyanide into a gay right's activist's drink?" Lynette suggested.

Katherine held up a hand, "Maybe, we have no proof."

"We may never get any. Not if Jonathan Timmerman was involved. He could have destroyed the evidence."

Katherine nodded.

"Should I talk to the police?" Lynette asked.

"What what evidence?" Katherine asked. "I don't see them getting involved unless we have laboratory confirmation that cyanide was present."

"What if Jonathan Timmerman is involved?"

Katherine shrugged. "Then it's too late to do anything about it. We can only wait and see what the tests reveal."

"He might get away with murder."

Katherine laughed. "Listen to you. You've already got the poor man tried and convicted and we're not even certain if a crime has been committed. We shouldn't assume anything."

"I'm almost certain, I know I didn't do anything wrong, that I didn't kill Nicholas Wilson. He had minor injuries—and cyanide poisoning is the only thing that fits every symptom."

"Knowing and proving something are totally different." Katherine retorted. The lawyer smiled at Lynette, "My best advice is to wait for the lab results. If they're positive, the medical examiner will rule Nicholas's death a homicide and the police will take over. But you're not going to do any good investigating a crime you can't even prove happened."

"You think I should do nothing? I can't do that. You don't understand my future is at stake here!"

"I do understand. Take my advice. Go home. It's out of your hands." Katherine said.

Lynette tapped her finger on Katherine's desk. There had to be something she could do. "What if the tests are negative for cyanide?"

"Then we'll figure something out. There are other jobs besides the one at Fairview Mem. Hey, maybe we could sue them for wrongful termination." Katherine reached out and offered her hand from across the desk. "I'll do everything I can to help you, Lynette."

Lynette took the lawyer's hand. Katherine seemed satisfied as long as she had a legal position to pursue, but Lynette wasn't.

She left the office in a daze. She could lose everything. But she refused to believe it could come to that—she wouldn't let it! There had to be a way to find out who poisoned Nicholas Wilson.

To Be Continued...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Tuesday, July 2 11:47 AM**

Doc Magoo's diner was a diner across the street from Fairview Memorial and its main clientele were hospital staff. The place had been around since the 50's so it was pretty run down. But it was great for hospital workers on break who just needed a quick cup of coffee or a small bite to eat. Patients and their families tended to steer clear from it because it looked so run-down and dingy. They usually went to the McDonalds or one of the other fast food restaurants up the street.

Gabrielle forced herself to hide her disappointment when she saw Carlos having lunch in Doc Magoo's, with Orson Hodge, one of the neurologists at Fairview Memorial. She'd talked to Carlos in the morning and he told he would too busy to eat lunch with her after Grand Rounds.

Thankfully, Susan led her and Bree to a table in the corner of the diner. Bree gave Carlos a wave before Susan yanked her hand down and steered her into a chair facing the wall. Gabrielle saw what her friend was doing but rebelled against Susan's attempt to put her in the chair with her back to Carlos. Instead she sat in the opposite seat, facing Orson and Carlos dead-on.

Carlos acted like he didn't even see her. Poor Orson looked terrible. She hadn't seen him since his divorce was finalized. Maybe Carlos was trying to cheer him up. Maybe that's why he blew off Gabrielle's lunch invite.

"I'm having a beer." She told the waitress, ignoring Bree and Susan's looks of surprise. "What?" she asked, staring past them as Carlos and Orson stood up to leave. "It's almost noon and I'm not on again until tomorrow morning."

Bree ordered orange juice, "I'm back on tonight."

"Aww," Susan said, ordering a fancy French vanilla Latte even though they all knew the closest she would get was plain black coffee. "I'm not."

"What happened with Dr. Wilson's son?" Bree asked. "I can't believe Dr. Lindquist messed up. She seems like an incredible doctor."

"She must have missed something because I know I didn't." Susan said.

Gabrielle moved her attention away from Carlos and back to her friends. "Don't blame the nurses. I double-checked all the meds and the blood packs—no mistakes, everything was in order."

Bree turned around and looked towards the doorway of the diner. "Who's the cute guy Carlos was having lunch with?"

"Orson Hodge, neurology but don't even think about it." Susan replied. "He just got divorced. And he's an attending."

Bree shrugged and took a sip of her juice, "Doesn't hurt to look."

"You know, Gabby," Susan continued, "There are only two reasons a guy is hanging out with his friend and avoiding his girlfriend. One of them comes with a pregnancy test."

"Shut up, Susan. I'm not pregnant, and we're not going to have kids for a while. I thought—I hoped—but he's been acting really weird lately."

"Weird?" Bree asked.

"Well he hasn't touched me in almost two weeks. No matter how hard I try. This is the longest we've ever gone without sex."

"I think he's going to ask you to have kids." Bree said. "Men get all weird about that stuff."

"I think he's sick. Or stressed. Junior year of surgery is tough." Susan said.

"Men's idea of romance is holding off on sex until a special occasion. They think their making a commitment."

Gabby took a gulp of her beer, "He has been jumpy lately. Not sleeping well. You really think he wants kids?"

"You said you two had a big date planned for the Fourth didn't you?" Susan asked.

"Trust me; everything is going to be fine." Bree reassured Gabby.

Gabby smiled as she felt her worries leave. Bree was right. After all, Carlos was the only man she had shared her past with, and he had done all right with the knowledge that she had been a victim of child abuse and a rape victim later on in life. He'd accepted her for who she was now, not what had happened four years ago.

Her smile widened as she imagined them watching the July Fourth fireworks together, lying on a blanket together. How could she ever have doubted him?

During their lunch they discussed Grand Rounds and the Nicholas Wilson resuscitation. They even talked about possible ideas for a baby's nursery. Bree made Gabrielle promise she would call as soon as Carlos talked to her. While they waited for the check, Susan stepped outside for some fresh air.

Gabrielle watched her track down the waitress first, knew Susan was paying their check. She smiled and said nothing to Bree. "What's up with you and Andrew?" She asked instead.

"He's certainly not the doctor his father was." Bree said, sighing.

"Yep, I've heard rumours from some other nurses at another hospital he worked at." Gabrielle said.

"I can't believe how he treated The Millers. That poor baby."

"What about the way he treated you?"

"Well that too, but that's not worth discussing."

"Bree, he grabbed you. Susan and I saw it if you want to report it—"

"Gabby, you're overreacting. He's my son, I'm not reporting him. He's just a bully, and has always been one."

Maybe Gabby was overreacting, she hoped so. "Fine, if you say so."

To Be Continued


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Tuesday, July 2, 12:49 PM**

Lynette entered her hotel room and was greeted by humidity and the smell of mold. Lynette cranked the AC on high, and changed into running clothes. She tucked her room key into her pocket, bought a water bottle from the vending machine in the lobby and started running.

Her feet pounded the pavement in perfect rhythm. As an ambulance raced past her she thought about Tom Scavo. Something about the paramedic made her giddy. She was also looking to see his reactions from him as if she was seeking approval. Her pulse jumped whenever he was near. It was hard to focus on anybody else when he was nearby.

A car almost hit her as she stepped off the curb. She jumped back and refocused on the traffic around her instead of on Tom. Any other time a romantic encounter would be great. Tom Scavo was at the top of her list for potential partners. But at the moment she was trying to save her career. Tonight she planned to spend looking up everything the internet had on cyanide, GOAD, Nicholas Wilson, Jonathan Timmerman, and the Sons of Adam.

"Help!" The call came from an alleyway besides a diner called Doc Magoo's. "Please, help! He's having a heart attack!"

Lynette stopped and looked around. No one else was nearby and she had left her cell phone in her room. She sprinted down the alley. A man was passed out while another man stood over him. She stopped a few feet away from the men. Something wasn't right. Then she noticed a car parked on the other side of the ally. The one that had almost hit her a few minutes ago. A man, hidden beneath a baseball cap and dark sunglasses sat in the driver's seat. Lynette reached into her pocket for her pepper spray. And realized she didn't have it—all she had was her motel room key, not her own key ring.

She turned around, ready to run away. Behind her somebody shut a dumpster lid closed. With that the injured man jumped to his feet, suddenly cured.

The first man had a shaved head and wore a T-shirt that said GAYS ORGANIZED AGAINST DISCRIMINATION. The second's shirt was another GOAD shirt. The man beside the dumpster had a black hooded sweater on, took out a black baton like the ones police carried. He raised it above his head like he was about to hit Lynette with it. As soon as he swung, Lynette struck. She threw her arm into his shoulder followed by a kick to his shin. He dropped the baton and fell.

"What the fuck! Get the bitch!" He called out.

The first two men came at her, neither with weapons. Lynette went towards one who had his arm raised. She slammed her fist into his stomach while ramming her knee into his groin. He fell down grabbing his crotch, blocking her from the other man. Number three was the only one left. She centered her attention on him.

"Fire!" She called out. "Help, fire!"

Number was about 6'5, he was humongous. There was no way Lynette could beat him. Not without a gun or some other weapon. But she didn't need to win, all she had to do was try to get into the rear door of the restaurant or back to the street.

"Scream all you want, no one can hear you." He said, stepping forward. He swung a punch but Lynette ducked. She grabbed her room key and aimed at his eyes. He turned at the last moment and all she accomplished was a gash across his cheekbone. Painful but not the results she wanted. He grabbed her from behind in a bear hug. She reached down with her other hand, dug her fingers into his groin as she hooked her leg behind his knee. He screamed and his arms relaxed enough for Lynette to break free. Just in time for Dumpster man to push her. She fell into the hard pavement, most of her weight landing on her right arm. Pain went through her causing her to wince. Someone grabbed her left hand and twisted her wrist.

"Hey, what's going on?" A women's voice broke through Lynette's haze of pain. She looked up as the other two men tackled Susan Mayer to the ground. They dragged her away from the back door of the restaurant, one man holding her in a choke hold. Susan's face was turning purple as she gasped for air.

"Let her go!" Lynette shouted at the men, lifting her head.

Number Three slammed Lynette back down to the ground. Her face turned away from Susan and the others. He grabbed onto the back of her neck. Lynette gasped for air, trying to find any oxygen available. Number Three laughed and finally stopped. He grabbed her hand and pulled Lynette to her feet. Lynette had pain everywhere. Slowly her vision cleared and her ears stopped ringing. It took all her effort to turn her head and check on Susan. The man with the baton had relented. He was holding Susan's hands behind her back while the other man had his hand over her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Lynette hoarsely whispered. The man with the baton appeared, and grabbed his hands around Lynette's throat.

"Shut the fuck up, Bitch. Unless you want your friend to get hurt. All we want to do is talk, understand?"

He released his hand as Lynette nodded. She touched her forehead and felt some blood.

"Susan, are you okay?" She shouted.

The man with the baton whacked her on the back. "I told you to be quiet. Your friend is fine. She'll stay that way as long as you behave yourself. We don't appreciate the rumours you're spreading. We heard you think Nicholas Wilson was poisoned. We know for a fact there was no poison. Heard it straight from the coroner's office. So you better head back to New York unless you want someone to get hurt—like your friend over here."

He gave her a cold glare, "Stop meddling in things that don't concern you. Any problems with that, Dr. Lindquist?"

A moan came from Susan's direction and Lynette fought off her impulse to turn and check if Susan was alright. The man in front of her grabbed her chin, forcing her to only focus on him. She choked down the vomit rising in her throat and nodded. She couldn't risk Susan getting injured.

"I can't hear you. I asked if you had any problems with us going our separate ways. Do you?"

"No." The word came out in a voice Lynette didn't recognize.

"Good. Hopefully we don't meet again. I'm still keeping an eye on you, doctor. Don't try going to the cops. We'll find out if you do."

Lynette glared at him, something she couldn't help.

"Why don't I give you a demonstration of what will happen if you don't do as you're told." He nodded towards Number Three who pivoted her to look at Susan. The man holding Susan pushed her down to her knees. Her eyes locked on Lynette's, filled with tears and looking terrified. The leader raised his baton and hit Susan's head. Lynette let out a squeal and tried to break free but Number Three held her tight. Susan's eyes rolled back, than shut as she slumped down. Her captor released his grip. Susan hit the ground.

Lynette ignored the pain in her arm as Number Three twisted it. She was intent on helping Susan. "Let me go!"

"Remember, we'll be watching." Dumpster man slapped the baton against his open palm and nodded. Number three released her grip as she fell to the ground. They ran from the alley, got into the car and sped off.

Lynette crawled over to Susan. She was awake, clutching her head, groaning and crying in pain. Then she began vomiting. Lynette's hands searched Susan's scalp. There was already a nice goose egg forming but no skull fracture that she could feel. But who knew what was going on beneath?

Lynette attempted to haul Susan upright as best she could and half carried her to the backdoor of the restaurant. She yanked it open. "We need some help out here!"

Susan looked at Lynette with her eyes half open. "Who the hell were those guys?"

To Be Continued


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Tuesday, July 2, 1:08 PM**

Help came from a waiter, Bree, Gabrielle, and two NICU nurses. Gabrielle took charge, ordering for paper towels to be used as pressure dressings and wanting to call an ambulance.

"No way," Susan said, leaning against the wall. "The hospital is right across the street. Let's just walk."

"Should we call the police?" Bree asked, putting an arm around Susan's shoulder and guiding her down the alley.

"Ask her," Susan said, looking in Lynette's direction. Christ, even moving her eyes hurt. "She was the one they were after."

Lynette shook of Gabrielle's hand but did take the wad of paper towels the charge nurse gave her. She held it against her bleeding scalp. Her lip was split and swollen and her arm was already bruising. Susan watched Lynette's gaze look around, as if searching for danger. Then Lynette let out a sigh which seemed to make her fear go away. By the time Lynette was facing Susan, she had that same calm, thoughtful expression she had had the night before in the ER.

"They were friends of Nicholas Wilson." Susan said when Lynette remained silent.

"Beating up on innocent people won't bring him back." Bree said.

"I'll call the police as soon as we're at the ER." Gabrielle said.

"They said they'd come back if we did." Susan said. She hated the quiver in her voice. And the tears drying on her face. Not to mention the stench of vomit that surrounded her.

Lynette led the way to the street. Susan found her panic go away as she watched Lynette's control.

"You just got here, how'd you manage to piss so many people off so fast?" Susan asked as they waited for traffic to slow down so they cross the street.

A small smile reached Lynette's face, "Talent."

Susan couldn't control her giggle. The laughing made her head pound but it made her less scared.

"Think you could teach me those moves someday? I couldn't do anything, but you kicked ass."

"Remnants of an ex who was a boxing instructor, and a couple of self-defence classes."

The group started crossing the street.

"If you won't call the police, at least call Mike." Gabrielle said. "He'll know what to do."

Shit, he'd be all over Susan wanting to mother and protect her. The thing she hated most was that she loved the attention. That feeling of being safe and secure.

"Who's Mike?" Lynette asked.

"Susan's boyfriend, Mike Delfino." Bree said.

"Why should we call him?" Lynette asked.

"He's a cop." Susan replied. She couldn't help but notice Lynette's look of distaste. This new attending didn't mind getting attacked by gay rights activists, or even possibly causing the death of the chief of surgery's son, but talking to a police officer upset her?

Hmm...Maybe she would let Mike come over and take care of her tonight. While he was at it, he could find out everything there was to know about Lynette Lindquist.

After experiencing Fairview Memorial Hospital from the other side of the curtain, Lynette decided that being a patient pretty much sucked. It was definitely not as fun as being the one in charge. It didn't help that she had no ID on her, much less insurance information. After almost an hour trying to process her, the registration clerk was clearly frustrated.

"Phone number?"

"Let me think for a minute." It took all of Lynette's strength to sit still and try to think.

"It's that motel down that street. I don't remember the name of it or the number."

"Address?" The women wouldn't stop annoying her. All she wanted was a moment to think. Her legs were all scraped up. Her arm was already swelling, but she could still move it so nothing was broken.

"I don't know, look it up." The clerk glared at her, Lynette softened her tone. "I'm sorry, I just can't remember."

She decided to play the patient card and lowered the paper towels to reveal the blood there. God, there was a lot. Scalp lacs always bled like crazy. She might need stitches or staples. Her head pounded as she tried to think of her attackers. Nothing made sense.

They knew about her suspicions that Nicholas Wilson had been poisoned—which meant someone present at the autopsy. Jonathan, Tom, Amanda and the other assistant. Or another person one of them had told. David Wilson? No that made no sense.

Maybe someone had overheard her conversation with Katherine? She remembered the open office windows. The two men in the lobby when she arrived?

Either way, it was a really short list of suspects.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Susan asked as the clerk walked away. She sat on the gurney beside Lynette. One of the heels of her shoes had been broken off. Susan frowned at the hole it left.

Susan was waiting for a head CT—she'd had all of her insurance information so she had already been seen. Lynette had refused treatment, thinking it would get her out of here faster, but the clerk still had to register her in order for her to leave against medical advice. She could just walk away, but she didn't want to leave Susan alone. She'd wait until either Bree or Gabrielle returned. They'd gone to try and expedite Susan's CT—otherwise they'd all be here for hours.

"So, those guys. It sounded like you knew more things about Nicholas's death."

Why couldn't Susan have gotten the amnesia that came with most concussions? Losing those few minutes in the alley could've saved them a lot of grief.

"Do you think they'll come back? Nicholas's friends?" Susan asked.

Lynette kept her voice low, "Those were no friends of Nicholas Wilson."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Tuesday, July 2, 1:56 P.M**

"If they weren't friends of Nicholas Wilson, who were they?" Susan asked.

Lynette was hesitant. An ER with very little privacy wasn't a very good place to discuss this. "We can talk later."

"We could have been killed out there. I deserve to know why."

Susan gave Lynette a cold glare. She had the right to, it was Lynette's fault she had been injured.

Lynette swallowed. Susan obviously had no idea how lucky they'd been. Lynette could tell the brunette had never been in a fight before.

"Susan be careful about what you say and who you say it to. Those guys weren't gay rights activists and they were definitely not friends of Nicholas."

Lynette started thinking. When she had first been ambushed she suspected Jonathan Timmerman because he had been Nicholas's boyfriend and had connections with GOAD—that was before she got a good look at her attackers. Despite the GOAD shirts they wore, her attackers had tattoos on their arms. Tons of anti**-Semitic tattoo's along with ones depicting racism.**

"**Why did those un-gay, not friends of Nicholas Wilson want to hurt you?" Susan asked.**

**Lynette's head was pounding. She didn't want to listen to or answer Susan's questions. She was tempted to bring Susan up to CT herself. She could understand Susan's fear and anxiety. She still had a huge adrenaline rush. Her pulse was still racing, refusing to go down to a normal pace.**

"**What kind of cop is your boyfriend?" Lynette asked Susan, changing the subject.**

"**A great one." Susan answered with pride evident in her voice. "He's the head detective at Fairview's police department."**

**Lynette took a deep breath and looked at Susan, "I'm sorry you got involved in this. I really am."**

**Before Susan could reply, Bree appeared with a wheelchair to take Susan up to radiology. **

"**Don't leave yet." Susan said as Bree started rolling her out of the room. "I still want an explanation."**

"**I think you all owe us one." Tom said, coming over to the gurney. He turned to allow Bree and Susan to pass.**

"**You okay, Susan?" he said.**

"**Yeah, I'll be fine." Susan replied before Bree wheeled her out of sight.**

**Tom was out of uniform, wearing a white T-shirt and old ripped jeans. His hair had bits of white paint in it. He looks worried as he saw Lynette's blood stained shorts and sports bra. **

**He took Lynette's arm and scrutinized her bruises. "Are you getting checked out? You might need X-rays. Or stitches."**

"**I'm fine; I'm going to sign out AMA." Lynette replied.**

**Tom looked down at her and for the first time she realized how tall he was. **

"**What are you doing here?" She asked him. **

"**Gabrielle Solis thought this had something to do with Nicholas's death. She knew we both went to autopsy so she called me. Said you weren't talking, didn't want the police involved." Tom said, frowning. "She thought maybe I could talk to you. Let's make a deal. Let me clean up that cut and then tell me what happened."**

**Without waiting for an answer Tom walked over to the sink in the corner of the room.**

"**Well, what do I get out of it?" Lynette asked.**

**The curtain was still open. Some nurses gave Lynette looks of anger. She didn't blame them. Killing the chief of surgery's son and then getting one of their own hurt were definite reasons to make someone an enemy.**

"**I have something to admit, I looked you up." Tom said, closing the curtain. "You tend to be," He hesitated.**

"**Tenacious."**

**Lynette snorted, "I don't think tenacious was what anyone in New York called it. Try pigheaded."**

**Tom's hand was gentle and he moved her hair away from her wound.**

"**The ER chief at your last hospital said you were stubborn and had a temper that got you into trouble a lot. The point is you're the kind of woman who doesn't stop until she gets what she wants."**

**She stopped listening to Tom as she gave into his gentle touch. She began to relax, the adrenaline leaving her. She was sore and aching. **

"**So, do you have a problem with that?" Lynette asked him.**

"**No, but you will. Fairview isn't like New York. This town is good at keeping secrets. Especially the people who work here. If people want something buried, it stays buried."**

**Tom rubbed some soap into Lynette's wound. It stung but only for a moment. **

"**Just an abrasion." Tom commented. "You lost some skin but you don't need stitches."**

**Tom's touch felt good—almost too good. Lynette accepted the towel Tom gave her as she gently stood up, being careful of her achy joints.**

"**So you don't care who killed Nicholas Wilson? You don't care why he died or that someone might get away with murder?" Lynette said to Tom as she used the damp towel to dab at the abrasions on her arm.**

**Tom was standing close to her but he didn't back away. Lynette thought he might, afraid that she had scared him off. Instead he tucked some stray hair behind her ear. "Not if it means you'll get hurt."**

**Lynette found it hard to breathe. She was falling for Tom.**

**He bent down to open a small refrigerator, giving her a nice view of his ass and legs. He straightened and gave her an ice pack. He grinned, telling her he knew exactly what she was thinking. And that he liked it.**

"**So, what happened out there, Doctor Lindquist?"**

"**Call me Lynette." She placed the ice pack on her wrist. "I used to be a paramedic just like you."**

"**Yeah, I heard you put yourself through school." Tom said. He smiled, "You live for this shit."**

**Lynette managed to smile back, "Yeah, too bad I might be out of a job, permanently."**

**Tom leaned in closer to Lynette. Lynette shivered, this was getting really intense. Time slowed down when Tom stared at her. Tom grabbed Lynette's hand and held it. She met his gaze and tilted her head. Their mouths were inches apart. Tom put his other hand on Lynette's back.**

"**I don't think this is a good idea." Lynette said.**

**Tom's hand touched Lynette's hair and he slowly stroked it.**

"**It's your call." He whispered.**

"**Screw it," Lynette said. She pulled Tom close to her. **

**At first it was a bit awkward as their noses bumped but they soon adjusted. Tom pressed his lips against Lynette's and a shiver ran up her spine. She closed her eyes and made the kiss deeper. Lynette wrapped one leg around Tom's, pulling him even closer. Damn, he was one hell of a kisser. Maybe there was more to keep her here in Fairview then just a job.**

**A voice from the other side of the curtain interrupted their kiss.**

"**Someone here call the police?"**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Tuesday, July 2, 2:28 PM**

Gabrielle followed Bree as Bree pushed Susan's wheelchair into the elevator. She was clutching Susan's ER chart so tightly the metal threatened to cut her wide open, letting all her fear and ugly memories hang out.

Bree pushed the button for radiology and the doors slid shut. Gabby let herself take a deep breath. The first she had taken since she'd heard Lynette call for help and saw Lynette and Susan covered in blood. They were both fine, she reminded herself. They were just fine.

She felt their blood still on her hands, despite washing them twice. She fought the urge to leave the elevator and wash them again. To scrub away all her memories. It wasn't as if she could tell anyone—Carlos was the only person she had ever told about the rape almost four years ago. Anyway, she was over it. She just needed to get control over her emotions...

The elevator stopped and they walked out onto the second floor of the hospital. The CT tech Gabrielle had bothered until he had gotten Susan's scan moved up was waiting for them. She sent the tech and Bree into the scanner with Susan, who was protesting she didn't need a scan.

Gabrielle went inside the scanner control room. She just wanted a moment of peace to herself. She was surprised to find Orson and Carlos in there, staring at a patient's scan.

"How does it look?" Carlos asked.

"It's clear, there's nothing." Orson said.

"I thought you were in clinic." Gabby said, her voice sounding tight.

Both men jumped. Carlos turned around, now standing with his back to the screen.

"What are you doing here?" He asked his wife.

She pointed to the glass behind them. Susan was climbing up onto the exam table and the tech was preparing the machine.

"Susan and the new ER attending were attacked."

"Attacked? Were you there? Are you okay?"

Carlos gave Gabrielle a hug. She was scared and upset, and although she wanted to, she couldn't break down. Not here in front of Orson.

"I'm fine. Susan got hit in the head and has a mild concussion." Gabby said, pushing Carlos's arms away. "At least that's what we hope it is. Orson, do you mind staying to read the films? I'd hate to wait for radiology."

"Sure," Orson accepted. His gaze moved to Bree. "Who's the redhead with Susan?"

"A physician's assistant down in the ER." Gabrielle replied.

Bree entered the control room. Gabrielle how saw Orson's eyes widened at the sight of her. She wondered if that was a good idea for either of them. Orson was still getting over his divorce and Bree was still getting over Rex's death.

"Bree Van De Kamp," Gabrielle made the introductions after Carlos nudged her. "This is Orson Hodge; he's going to read Susan's CT scan for us."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Hodge." Bree said. "We appreciate your help."

"Bree Van De Kamp? Rex's wife?" Orson asked.

"Yep," Bree said, nodding.

"I used to work with him, I mean before he died." Orson said, stumbling over his words.

Good lord, he was practically stuttering. And was that a blush Gabrielle spotted on Orson's face? Gabrielle shook her head, quietly laughing to herself. Carlos started slowly stroking her hair. It had been days since he'd touched her like that. She knew there was no way she could wait until the Fourth. She missed him too much. And after what had happened today, she needed him.

"I'm going back to clinic. Are you going to be okay?" Carlos said.

She could tell Carlos seemed jumpy and wanted to get out of there. "I'm fine." Was all Gabrielle said. There were so many things she wanted to say but couldn't in front of Bree and Orson.

"Aren't you working tonight?" Carlos asked.

"I'm off, switching to days tomorrow." Gabrielle answered. Carlos looked puzzled.

"Remember, you asked me to? So that we could both have the Fourth off?"

"Oh, right." Carlos said. He glanced through the window at Susan. "Won't Susan need someone to stay with her if she does have a concussion?"

"I hadn't thought of that." Bree said. "I'm back on at seven. Maybe Mike?"

Gabrielle felt Carlos staring at her. "I can do it." She volunteered.

"Alright, see you tomorrow then." Carlos said. He pecked her on the check, and damn it, she wanted so much more.

Gabrielle tapped Orson's arm. He and Carlos had been friends for years. "What's going on with Carlos?" She asked Orson.

Orson just shrugged and focused on the images of Susan's brain.

"I told you, he wants kids." Bree said, with her leg shaking.

Orson concentrated, and it looked like he was about to say something but hesitated.

"No bleed or fracture." He said instead.

"She's all right?" Bree asked.

"She'll be just fine." Orson said. "Gabby, you already know what to look for tonight. Why don't you take Susan back down to the ER while I talk to Bree?" He asked.

Bree gave Gabrielle a pleading look. Gabrielle shrugged, even though Bree should know better. She grabbed Susan's chart and followed the tech into the scanner, leaving Bree and Orson alone.

The man in a black suit looked too young to be a police detective.

"Mike Delfino," He introduced himself, after apologizing for interrupting.

Lynette looked at him sceptically, "Could I see some ID, please?"

He grabbed his wallet from his pants pocket. His hair was dark and his eyes were brown, radiating kindness and empathy. Good for a cop to have—all the better for them to fool you with.

"Gabrielle Solis called me. Said that two doctors were assaulted. You're one of them, right? Dr. Lindquist?"

Lynette nodded, "Yes, Susan is up getting a scan but she should be back soon. Would you like me to go find her?"

She got off the gurney, pain searing through her head, arm and all her other bruises. She almost made it past Delfino but he blocked her path.

"Actually Dr. Lindquist, Gabrielle said I should talk to you." He flipped open a notebook. "What happened?"

Lynette hated Gabrielle's maternal instincts. Overprotective and interfering—good qualities in a charge nurse, but the last thing Lynette wanted. Her heart was racing. Just holding Mike's badge and ID was giving her an anxiety attack. Tom seemed to notice her discomfort and grabbed her hand.

"Dr. Lindquist?" Mike persisted.

Lynette sighed. Sooner or later she would have to trust somebody. She just wished it wasn't a cop. She told Mike about her attack, observations and the facts. Including the threats about what would happen if she or Susan told the police.

Detective Delfino was a good listener. Didn't interrupt her, and took notes. Meanwhile, Tom kept squeezing her hand every few seconds.

"Sounds like you gave as good as you got." Tom said with a hint of pride in his voice. "If Susan hadn't shown up..."

Lynette felt compelled to defend Susan. It was because of Lynette she had gotten hurt.

"It wasn't her fault; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"My specialty." Susan said, as Gabrielle wheeled her over to the group. "My brain is normal." She said, smiling. She glanced at Mike and Lynette. "So you've met. Did you get the bad guys yet?"

Mike went over and offered Susan his hand. He helped her over to the gurney. "You sure you're all right?"

Susan nodded.

Mike looked at Gabrielle, "Is that true? The doctor cleared her?"

Gabby nodded, "She's fine. They're working on her discharge papers right now. She'll need someone to stay with her tonight. I can do it if you're busy."

"No, I can handle it. But thank you for offering." Mike replied.

Gabrielle looked at Lynette, "So, Dr. Lindquist, you gonna tell us what happened? I think we all deserve an explanation."

"That won't work, Gabby. She said she'd only tell Mike." Susan said.

Lynette changed the subject and focused on Mike. "In New York, I knew a few cops who worked with the Aryan Nation."

"Aryan Nation?" Tom asked. "I thought you said they were GOAD members?"

"I said they wore GOAD shirts." Lynette replied. She didn't know how to explain her thoughts since most of them were speculations and theories.

"The Sons of Adam are like Fairview's version of the Aryan Nation, right?" She asked Mike.

"Yeah, why?" Mike asked.

"I think they might've murdered Nicholas Wilson."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Tuesday, July 2, 3:08 PM**

Bree watched Gabby wheel away Susan and turned back to Dr. Hodge. His eyes were on her and she was surprised to find him blushing. Bree sat in the chair beside him and moved the chair so close that their knees touched. Orson jumped and blushed again. She had seen Susan and Gabby do this before—make men stutter and drop things—but she had never been able to do it herself. A warm glow danced inside of her. This was the first time she had a 'crush' on someone since Rex's death.

"Should I call you, Doctor?" She asked, trying to sound seductive.

Orson almost fell off his chair. A paper coffee cup someone had forgotten was on the table and Orson nearly spilled it while trying to catch his balance.

Bree laughed. Time to get serious. He was an attending. But he had started it, asking her to stay behind.

"Call me." Orson squeaked. He cleared his throat, "I mean, call me."

"Right, if Susan has any complications from her concussion." Bree said.

"Actually, Mrs. Van De Kamp—"

"Call me Bree."

Orson sighed, "I actually asked you to stay behind so I could see when you were available to schedule a clinic appointment."

"A clinic appointment?" Bree said, confused.

"Yes, for the neurology clinic. I want to schedule some tests. MRI, MRA, possibly an LP. Do you have any other symptoms?"

"Symptoms?" Bree said, thinking she was an idiot. Here she was, thinking she was flirting with him. "Dr. Hodge, I have no symptoms you need to worry about."

Orson stared at Bree and she knew he knew she was lying. Too bad. Gentlemen wouldn't come out and start randomly diagnosing women's health problems like that. And a gentleman wouldn't call a woman a liar.

"You're lying." Orson said. "I saw you stumble, you have a mild foot drop, and you've got a leg tremor—"

"How dare you!" Bree shouted. She spun on her heel, happy that her foot wasn't fully asleep and she didn't lose her balance. The rapid movement did make her dizzy but the door wasn't too far away so she made it without falling. Orson followed her.

"How long has it been since you lost feeling in your foot?" He asked.

Bree glanced over her shoulder. No one was around, luckily, except for Orson.

"Has it moved up into your leg? It will and when it does please come see me." Orson said.

"Dr Hodge." She turned around and faced him one more time. She couldn't believe she found him attractive. Arrogant was more like it. "I promise if I do get symptoms requiring an exam, you'd be the last doctor I would see!"

There, that was telling him. She was relieved to leave with her dignity intact. As she started walking away, her leg felt numb and she tripped. She moved her arms, trying to catch her balance but ended up falling on the floor.

Orson rushed over to her. He was almost fast enough to catch her. Bree ended up on the floor. She fumbled with the buttons on her blouse and Orson pulled her back to her feet.

"That was your right leg." Orson said, leading Bree to a nearby chair. "Your foot drop was in your left."

"It moves around. Comes and goes." Bree admitted. She hated admitting it out loud. That made it real. It was too real now. Orson looked really concerned that it frightened Bree. "It's nothing. It doesn't cause me any problems with patients, honestly."

"Okay, well," Orson whispered, "Tell me everything. Now."

"Dr. Lindquist, you need to tell me everything right now. Why do you think the Sons of Adam killed Nicholas Wilson?" Mike demanded.

Lynette found herself the center of attention. She hated that.

"Those crazy sons of bitches are the ones, who almost killed you, aren't they?" Tom realized.

"I don't know for sure." Lynette said. "They were just trying to warn me I think. If they planned to kill me, they had plenty of chances."

"Why would they want to kill Nicholas Wilson?" Tom asked.

Doubt overcame Lynette. It had made sense in her mind but when she said it out loud it sounded stupid. "Maybe it was his ex-lover, Jonathan Timmerman. All I know is that someone killed him."

"Timmerman?" Mike remarked. "The M.E? What the hell is going on here?" He left Susan's side to face Lynette. Great another person she pissed off. And he was a cop. Lynette was ready to explain when the curtain opened.

"They said Dr. Lindquist was here."

A tall woman with blond hair came into the room.

"Edie?" Gabby said a tad confused.

"Dr. Lindquist? I'm Edie Britt. From Fairview Realty. We spoke earlier but you weren't answering your cell phone so I came here. I thought you might be working. A fantastic property just came on the market. It's perfect for you but we need to move fast. Here, look at the photos." She said, thrusting her BlackBerry at Lynette. "It's a steal, only one point two million."

Lynette quickly glanced at the photos of the mansion.

"Ms. Britt, you know that's out of my price range—"

"You can take out a loan." Edie suggested. She obviously didn't take no for an answer. She suddenly noticed everyone's annoyed faces. "I'm sorry; did I come at a bad time?"

Tom rolled his eyes, "Yes, Edie."

Lynette realized they all knew Edie.

"Edie, no cell phones in the ER." Gabrielle said. Edie obeyed and put her phone in her purse.

"Dr. Lindquist, I can't guarantee that the property will still be available after today—"

"I'm not interested, Ms. Britt." Lynette said. She wished Edie would leave.

"Lynette, let's go to the locker room and get you cleaned up." Gabrielle said.

"We'll meet you at Doc Magoo's." Mike said. "Where we can continue this discussion in private."

Lynette stared at Mike and Susan as Mike held her hand as they walked out, Susan tottering in her broken sandals. Edie Britt didn't get the hint and ran after Lynette and Gabrielle on their way to the women's locker room.

"Edie, its authorized personnel only." Gabby said, and shut the door in the real estate agents face.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Dr. Lindquist!"

Lynette collapsed onto a bench, laughing.

"I'll never be rid of that woman."

"Then, fire her."

"I already tried—twice. I never knew real estate agents were like a herpes virus. Haunting when you least wanted them."

Gabrielle laughed, "Edie probably does have herpes."

"So, I take it you two know each other?" Lynette asked.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, "Yes, she's my neighbour." She was silent for a moment.

"Lynette, I need to know something." She spoke up. "Susan's a friend. If she's in danger"

"Those guys have no idea who she is." Lynette reassured Gabby. She then frowned, did she use Susan's name during the attack? "I'm sorry she got involved in this mess. It's my fault she got hurt."

"She said you saved her."

Lynette shook her head. "They were teaching me a lesson. If I wasn't so stubborn they wouldn't have hurt her. They would've let us both go with just a few scrapes and bruises. I was angry and I was stupid."

Gabby stared at her, "We better get you some clean scrubs to wear."

Her tone was businesslike as she ran around grabbing a pair of fresh blue scrubs for Lynette. Lynette knew the charge nurse disliked her even more. She took a quick shower, changed into her scrubs and she and Gabrielle walked over to Doc Magoo's. It reminded her of the restaurants her ER colleagues back in New York used to hang out at.

Mike had gotten the booth in the very back corner. Spread out over the table was plates of nachos, chicken wings, hamburgers, and baskets of French fries. Tom moved over to make room for Lynette. She debated sitting somewhere else, she didn't like that he assumed they were a "couple". She just decided to sit with him. After everyone ordered, Mike rapped his fork against his glass of Diet Coke.

"Dr. Lindquist, it would be better if I could question you in private but—"

Susan nudged him, "Shut up, Mike. So, Lynette, what really killed Nicholas Wilson?"

Lynette ate a handful of fries and then told everyone her suspicions that Nicholas was poisoned. "Even if there is cyanide, it will be hard to prove. A lot of the time it doesn't show up."

"Cyanide?" Mike asked, sounding unsure. "Are you sure?"

Gabby was frowning. Tom had grabbed Lynette's hand and she hadn't even noticed until now. She would have shaken free but it felt nice.

"That's not the way the Sons of Adam usually operate." Mike said. "Why do you think they're behind it?"

"The attackers had tattoos of a Celtic cross with a swastika in the center, and two of them had tattoos with the numbers 14 and 88."

Mike frowned, "Okay, I understand the gang tats. But what's 1488?"

"Fourteen stands for the fourteen words the white supremacist creed. Eight stands for the eighth letter of the alphabet."

Gabrielle counted the letters. "H."

"Yeah, eighty-eight. Heil Hitler. I use to see tattoo's like that all the time in New York."

"Wow, Lynette," Susan said, "I think you're going for some kind of record. You haven't even worked a full shift but you've already pissed off the chief of surgery, a medical examiner, and the local skinheads."

Tom looked angry, "You could've been killed."

"He's right, Doctor." Mike said, "These guys are not to be taken lightly. Their first leader, Sarah Kent died in a police chase last year. She had enough explosives and weapons in her car to start a small war."

"So, why aren't they shut down?" Susan asked.

Mike shrugged, "It's out of my hands. Their compound has been raided twice since Sarah Kent died. They came up empty. The FBI is watching them but it's not in my jurisdiction. There's nothing the Fairview Police can do." Mike stared at Lynette, "Until now."

"I'll indentify them." Lynette said, knowing that's what Mike wanted. "If you need me to." She knew it wouldn't be easy. Going into a police station and testifying in court were not things she liked.

"How about you, Susan?"

Susan shook her head, "I can't remember anything. It was all a blur. I don't even remember those tattoo's Lynette mentioned."

Gabrielle stroked Susan's arm gently, "That's all right. That's normal after a trauma. You know that."

Mike reached for Susan's hand as he focused on Lynette. "Okay, let me get this straight. First you thought Nicholas was poisoned by his ex-lover who is also in a position to hide the evidence. And now, after you were assaulted by three men with Aryan Nation tats you're blaming the Sons of Adam. I hate to say it, Lynette, but there is more than one hate-group in Fairview."

"All I know is what I saw and what my gut-instinct tells me."

Mike glared at Lynette. In response, Tom glared back at the detective. Lynette ignored them both and started over from the beginning.

"Nicholas's father is threatening to get my medical licence taken away and press criminal charges so after the autopsy I met my lawyer. Her name is Katherine Mayfair and—"

"I know Katherine." Mike said. "She works for the ACLU."

"Right, she was also friends with Nicholas. She was his professor in law school. She's the one who told me Jonathan was his lover. Well ex-lover. Anyway, there were two men at her office. Katherine said they were from the Sons of Adam. One was praying and tried to convert me or something."

"Tall, pale eyes, blond hair?" Mike asked. Lynette nodded. "That's probably Matthew Kent, the new leader. Sarah was his wife."

"He seemed harmless—from a physical violence point of view."

"Matthew preaches nonviolent conversion of the masses. His wife was more militant."

"I heard him call the other man Hampton." Lynette continued. "He was a true skinhead. The clothes, shaved head, and he had the same tattoos as our attackers."

"Was he one of your attackers?"

"No, but the fourth man was driving the car."

"Susan, did you?"

Susan shook her head.

"I'll try to run the tats. See if they're unique to the Sons of Adam. Maybe this Hampton is trying for a power play, taking the organization back on a more militant path. Can you give me a basic description of the men who attacked you?"

She started with the first two and finished with number three—the one she had gotten the best look at. "About 6'4, he wore jeans and a GOAD shirt. White, very pale. Very large and muscular. His scalp was shaven, no piercings, had an 88 tattooed on his arm. He recently got out of prison—"

"How do you know that?"

They were all staring at her confused, even Tom.

"Same way I know Tom's mother still does his laundry."

Tom straightened, "Hey, how do you know that?"

Lynette sighed. "You're wearing sneakers without socks, despite the fact that those shoes look brand new and you already have blisters on your heels. Your grabbed your T-shirt from wherever you left it, in your closet or your car—from the smell and the wrinkles, it's been there a while. But your jeans aren't wrinkled. So my guess is that you bring your laundry over to your parent's house and your mom does it—but you haven't had time lately and ran out of socks."

Tom looked at Lynette in shock. Susan spoke up, "Is that true."

Tom sighed, "I don't own a washer or dryer, she's right."

Susan got excited, "Do me, next!"

Lynette looked at the attending. Susan didn't realize it but she was the easiest out of everyone. Those calluses on her fingers, old and healed, thank goodness, spoke of an eating disorder. That meant need for perfection, control, someone who wanted to rebel once in a while—things that had already been revealed to Lynette in the short time they had known each other.

"You're a perfectionist." Lynette said, taking the easy way out. She didn't want to embarrass Susan. "You're also needy, always looking for love." She said, nodding towards how tightly Susan was holding Mike's hand.

"Wow, you're right. How do you do that?"

Lynette shrugged, "You get close enough to a person and you can learn a lot just by observing.

Mike was still eyeing her. Lynette knew he would run a background check on her as soon as he got back to the station.

"Want to tell me your story, Dr. Lindquist? Did you get in this much trouble back in New York?"

"I don't go looking for trouble. It just comes to me. But I don't run from it either."

"Okay, well would you mind coming to the station tomorrow to look at some photos?" Mike asked.

"Why don't you get a sketch artist to do it? Like on TV." Susan mentioned.

"That's TV. We don't have the money for that. Not for a simple assault."

"I'm doing a ride-along in the morning but I'll come in the afternoon." Lynette told the detective.

"That will work. It will take me time to persuade the feds to share their surveillance footage of the Sons of Adam. If I get them interested, maybe they'd pay for a sketch artist. Can you think of anything else that may be helpful?"

"Hampton and Kent talked about the Fourth of July and Katherine said something about a protest."

"Word came down today. A judge upheld the right to protest at GOAD's same-sex marriage rally on the Fourth."

"The only people who knew I suspected Nicholas was poisoned were Jonathan Timmerman, his staff at the M.E's office, Tom, and Katherine. There's no way the M.E's office would release that information, right?" She looked to Mike for confirmation.

"As far the public knows, Nicholas died as a result of a hit and run." Mike answered. "His father tried to force the DA to get us to investigate it as a homicide but that won't go anywhere until the M.E's report is final. For now it's an open case."

"Who else could've known that Lynette suspected he was poisoned." Gabrielle asked.

"Kent and Hampton might've heard me talking to Katherine." Lynette answered.

"You're the only eyewitness. I don't like that." Tom said.

Lynette was annoyed at his over protectiveness. "I'm an adult. I can take of myself."

Tom and Mike exchanged looks, obviously not convinced. Lynette ignored them and started eating her now cold meal. It tasted horrible and she wasn't hungry but it was a distraction.

She reached for her water and gulped it down, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. Images of her attack flashed through her mind. She looked across the table at Susan and swallowed hard against a wave of fear and guilt.

The hardest thing about what happened today was that she knew it could've been so much worse.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Tuesday, July 2, 5:18 PM**

After Mike finished getting all the information he could from Lynette, Tom insisted on walking with her back to her motel.

"I don't need any help. I'm fine." She said.

"So you keep saying." Tom said, glancing over her various scrapes and bruises. "I don't think you understand how dangerous the Sons of Adam are."

"And you do?"

Tom leaned against the wall of the motel building, "Not me. My dad."

"What happened?"

"He was involved in the high speed chase that killed Sarah Kent. My dad is—was--a police officer. He got in a pretty bad accident during the chase and retired from the force."

"Was your dad okay?" Lynette asked.

"Broken pelvis, dislocated hip. And then he had a heart attack from all the stress." Tom replied. "My point is, my dad got into that crash because he was attempting to block Sarah. She was speeding towards a school where there were a bunch of kids playing outside. She would've killed them all if my dad hadn't stopped her. That's the kinds of people the Sons of Adam are."

They arrived at her room and she unlocked the door. Tom hovered, watching her every move.

"You shouldn't stay here. Pack up your stuff and I'll help you." He said.

Lynette sighed, "Where should I go? Your place?"

"No, um—I don't really have a place. You were right about that. Before I became district chief a few months ago, I was working really crazy hours. Anyway, I also remodel homes so I usually just crash wherever I'm working." Tom shrugged, "Why should I settle down?"

He was a wandering spirit. Another reason not to get involved with him.

"Right," Lynette muttered, opening the door.

She turned the lights on. Due to the AC being on all afternoon, the room was freezing. Lynette turned to tell Tom goodbye. Tom was beside her, his eyes scouring the room.

"You gonna look under the bed, too?" Lynette said sarcastically, leaning against the wall.

"Where's the rest of your stuff?" Tom asked nodding to the three suitcases Lynette had placed in the corner of the room. "In storage?"

"No. I travel light." Lynette said. She held the door open, hoping he would get the hint.

Instead he leaned over the dresser, peering at the photos in their frames.

"Don't touch those!" Lynette said, a bit harshly.

Tom pulled his hand away and looked scared. She realized she had yelled—old habits die hard.

She didn't care about her other stuff, but those two photos were really important to her.

"Is that your mom?" Tom asked, using the gentle voice he had used while cleaning her wounds.

Lynette nodded and stepped closer to Tom. This was a bit weird, having him here, touching her belongings. She was already edgy. After what had happened in the alley, not being able to protect Susan, she was sure it was going to be a sleepless night filled with nightmares. She could already feel the panic rising. She needed to get Tom out of here before a full-blown panic attack began.

"You look like her." He said.

He appeared oblivious to her agitation. Her maybe he was trying to calm her down. He had no idea that talking about Stella and her childhood was the last thing that would accomplish that.

Tom ran his finger down her arm. She could feel the sexual tension. In the past she had filled her nights with meaningless, adrenaline-fuelled sex, which stopped the panic. No fuss, no mess, just a lot of hot sweaty sex.

Here they were. He wanted it, she could tell. She wanted it too...but she couldn't. She wouldn't. Tenderness, compassion—she didn't want to break his heart by having a one night stand.

"It's getting late." She told him. She tried to make her voice sound normal even though the anxiety was inside of her. "I have a ride-along in the morning."

Tom gazed into her eyes. He stood still for a moment. That's one thing she liked about him. His calmness was a contrast to her overdrive. Calm radiated from Tom, inviting her to share his tranquility.

Just as Tom was leaving, he turned around which gave her one more chance. She stood on her tiptoes and stole one more kiss. This one wasn't as awkward as the one in the ER. It was quiet and deep. It left her trembling when she finally pushed him away.

"Bye," she said, choking back her regret. But she had to protect herself, protect her secrets, and letting him stay tonight was just too dangerous.

Tom smiled, "I'll see you in the morning."

"No I'm riding with Med Seven tomorrow. Not five." Lynette said.

"I'm district chief. I can ride with whomever, whenever I want." Tom said. He winked and he was gone.

Lynette shut the door and leaned against it. This was all new for her—a kiss that left her dizzy, a touched that comforted her, a man who she could trust.

Lynette stared at the pictures on her dresser and repositioned them so that they faced the bed. As she stared at the picture of her and Stella, she felt her panic returning. She was sweating and could actually hear her heart pounding. It was so loud that she wanted to scream to drown out the other sounds she knew would be following.

She pressed herself against the wall, wrapped her arms around her chest and forced herself to breathe. She slid to the floor, her body rocking with her knees against her chest, and let the tears flow.

To Be Continued


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Tuesday, July 2, 8:10 PM**

Bree had started her shift thinking that maybe she was wrong about Andrew. He had tried to teach her some new things—despite the fact that she already knew them. He was sweet to the other doctors and nurses—then she realized he was just showing off for the attending and the premed college student who was observing, writing some kind of paper. The student seemed nice, but Andrew was giving him a tour of the ER, leaving her with all the scut work.

She was frustrated and battling fatigue. Bree couldn't talk to the attending; it would be a breach of protocol that might harm her. So she did the work, and managed to get some interesting patients.

"Hi," The college student said, leaving Andrew. "I'm Dan. Dan Ryder. Can I join you?"

"I'm Bree." She was leaving for the ambulance bay to wait for Med Five who were bringing in a nursing home patient. "It's nothing interesting, An LOL-DFD."

"A what?"

"Little old lady, done fell down. That usually means a trip straight to ortho but we need to check her out first, make sure there are no other problems."

"The ortho guys don't do that?" Dan asked.

Bree laughed, "Ortho guys don't even know what end of the stethoscope to use." Suddenly she clamped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, remembering who she was talking to. "Oh, please don't use that in your article."

Dan laughed, "I won't."

Bree gave Dan an appreciative smile as the ambulance pulled up, "Thanks."

Gabrielle let herself into the house on Wisteria Lane she and Carlos lived in. She heard their dog come bounding up to her and was greeted by the golden retriever.

"Simon, down." She ordered and the dog obeyed. "Good boy, good puppy." She said rubbing the dog's neck.

"Carlos?"

She knew he wasn't home but she called his name anyway. Had he been home at all? Simon's empty food and water bowls gave her, her answer.

She fed the dog and debated making something for herself. She decided not to because the thought of food made her nauseous as she remembered what had happened at lunch.

She leaned against the kitchen counter with her eyes closed. As she listened to the dog eating she fought the memories of her own attack, mixed with the images of Lynette and Susan. Simon finished and came over to her. Gabrielle took him on a long walk and just happened to walk past Carlo's hang out places—his favourite bar, his favourite Italian restaurant, and a nearby park.

She'd already looked for him at the hospital from top to bottom. No sign of Carlos and no one was expecting him. There no emergency surgeries and no Carlos.

God, she really didn't want to be alone tonight. Even if he just held her that would be enough. As they reached the dog park Gabrielle let Simon off his leash, leaving him free to roam around as she watched from a nearby bench.

As the sun started setting it was time to go home. Still no word from Carlos. Gabrielle started wondering; maybe he wanted to leave her. As she stood up from the bench she banished her thoughts with the thought that Carlos might be at home.

She looked at her cell phone, still no calls from him. She had already left him four messages. She wanted to call him again but she stopped herself. She was stronger than that and she was a grown woman who could handle one night alone.

"Simon!" She called and the dog ran to her. She attached his leash again, "Let's go home." She said and scratched the dog's ears.

It was almost dark as they walked down Wisteria Lane. The porches were empty, no sign of life. Gabrielle stopped with fear clenching inside her. She took a few deep breaths. Tonight had nothing in common with that night in May. Not at all. She had just graduated from nursing school so her and a few friends and classmates had gone out celebrating. She'd been pretty tipsy and so had her date so they shared a taxi home. Gabby had been living in an apartment near the campus then. She kissed her date, Toby Masterson, good night. It was only the third time they had gone out and they hadn't clicked that well but she wasn't going to give up the chance to wear her new Dolce & Gabbanna dress and Jimmy Choo's. Toby had ridden off in the taxi and while walking up the stairwell to her apartment...

Simon barked which interrupted Gabrielle from her thoughts. Out alone at night wasn't the place to let her mind wander. She had to stay alert and be in control.

She practically ran up her porch steps expecting Carlos to come and greet her.

But he didn't. The house was dark and empty.

Only after checking all the rooms, every shadow, locking all the doors and windows and ensuring that she was truly alone she let Simon off his leash. He ran to his water bowl and Gabrielle stood in the middle of the kitchen, one hand over her heart with her eyes closed, wishing Carlos was here. Angry at herself for being so weak. And wondering where he was.

To Be Continued


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Tuesday, July 2, 8:41 PM**

After getting through her panic attack, Lynette washed her fear away by taking a long, hot shower. The water stung her various abrasions but it felt good on her aching muscles. She grabbed a loose-fitting T-shirt to sleep in. Not that she would be getting a lot of sleep. Not tonight, not after what had happened earlier. She let a breath out and took a few more deep ones. She knew all about posttraumatic stress. She had tried therapy, counselling everything but none of it was protection against the memories that would come when they were triggered.

Experiencing violence, like what had happened today, coupled with the feelings of helplessness as she'd watch Susan get hurt—well, that was a definite promise that she would have a sleepless night filled with nightmares. If she wouldn't be able to sleep, she might as well get some work done. She set up her laptop and soon she was devouring information on cyanide poisoning. And she was certain that that's what had caused Nicholas's death. Every symptom, even his lab findings, fit the profile of cyanide intoxication.

Next she looked up Jonathan Timmerman and was impressed by his career. Not what she expected from a killer—of course crimes of passion weren't committed by psychos were they?

The GOAD website was filled with photos of Nicholas: In court, leading marches, preaching etc. It didn't give her any insight other than what Katherine had already told her. This organization was Nicholas's life.

A knock on the door interrupted her before she could move onto the Sons of Adam or Matthew Kent.

"Who is it?" She asked.

"Dr. Lindquist?" A man's voice responded. He knocked again. "Dr. Lindquist, I'm Robert Harper. I'm a reporter and I need to talk to you. About Nicholas Wilson's death."

"No comment." Lynette said through the closed door. "Good-bye, Mr. Harper."

She knew sooner or later the press would get involved. She just hadn't realized it would be this soon. David Wilson probably notified them.

"Dr. Lindquist, I really think you need to talk to me."

Obviously Harper wasn't about to give up. Maybe she could use him. He would have info she couldn't find on the internet.

"Please open up."

Lynette was already changing into jeans and a tank top.

"Don't you want to clear your name?" she heard Harper say.

Lynette opened the door, "Show me some ID."

He showed her his business card. He was tall with salt and pepper hair.

"Wait here." She said and closed the door. His business card wasn't for a newspaper; it was for some internet blog. She grabbed her cell phone and dialled Katherine's home number. Dylan answered.

"It's Lynette. Could I speak with your mother please?" She realized she should probably also tell Katherine about the attack earlier—if Katherine's clients were involved she might want to drop the case due to the conflict of interest.

"I think tomorrow would be better. She had a rough day." Dylan said quietly.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, I have it covered."

"You live with her?" Lynette blurted out. Dylan looked to be in her early twenties and she didn't know any twenty years old who still lived at home.

"Uh, yeah," Dylan said, nervously. "So, what is it you needed?"

"There's this guy asking questions about Nicholas's death. His name is Robert Harper. He claims he's a reporter—"

"He's an internet blogger. Kind of a fame whore. My mom says he'd rather make news than report it."

"Well, he tracked me down and won't go away until I talk to him."

"I'd come over and try to help but I can't leave my mother."

"Of course, I understand. I can take of it myself." Lynette hung up. Maybe she could use Mr. Harper. She could see what he knew. She opened the door again.

"Let's find a place to talk. The McDonalds down the street?" Robert suggested.

Better in public than her motel room. Lynette nodded and started walking in that direction. Harper was struggling to keep up with her.

"We could've taken my car." He said.

Lynette just shrugged.

"It's so hot. It ever get this hot in New York?" Harper asked.

Right. Like he wanted to discuss the weather. "What do you know about Nicholas's death?"

"More than most, less than you."

Lynette had seen the news broadcasts of Nicholas's death. None had said anything except the fact he died due to a tragic motor vehicle accident. No mentions of her or the autopsy. Yet, here she was walking down the street with a reporter-slash-gossip hound.

They arrived at the McDonalds. The dinner crowd was gone so they got a secluded table in the corner.

"Tell me how you found me." Lynette began.

"I know someone who is a friend of David Wilson. He called and told me about Nicholas, suggested I look into your background. Hinted you're responsible for Nick's death. I wanted to check the ME's report but it's not available yet. So either he was right or there's something more than a simple traffic fatality. Then I asked around the hospital and learned you and another doctor were attacked today. I convinced an admissions clerk to tell me where you were staying and...There you go."

Lynette just stared at him. Obviously he was holding something back. "Did you realize that the medical examiner who performed Nicholas's autopsy is his former lover?"

Harper smiled and nodded. "Who do you think my lead story tonight was? That'll ruffle some feathers in the ME's office and with GOAD."

Lynette had a feeling ruffling feathers was what Harper liked best.

"So what do you know about Nicholas Wilson and Jonathan Timmerman?" She asked.

"Well, you obviously already know about Nick and Jonathan being a couple. Apparently Jonathan was trying to make amends. I have a witness who says he saw the two of them at The Tavern the same night Nicholas died."

"When? What time?" Lynette asked. Even though Nicolas had died after midnight, cyanide could take anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes before it started to act.

"Jonathan left a few minutes before Nicholas did. " He squinted at her. "Why? Do you know something?"

"Nothing," Lynette answered, telling the truth. She knew nothing. "Did you tell the cops?"

Harper scoffed, "They don't co-operate with me so I mess them up every chance I get." He shrugged, "Power of the press."

"Does that include protecting a killer?" Lynette snapped. "You need to tell the police."

"You think Jonathan had something to do with Nicholas's death? Then why the hell did you tell the cops you're attackers were from the Sons of Adam? And don't deny it. I have sources at Fairview Memorial who heard you."

Lynette was tempted to bolt from the table. "Tell me about the Sons of Adam." She said.

"Lynette, don't play games with me."

"I'm not. I'll tell you what happened if you tell me about the Sons of Adam."

"Okay, well I'm your man for that information. After his wife was murdered—Matthew Kent asked me to write her biography. I've gotten even closer to them than the feds. And it's all in here." Harper said, patting his laptop. "Tell me whatever you want to learn about the Sons of Adam."

Lynette didn't trust him. He was too slick. And she didn't know what he could prove. "You first." She said.

He shrugged and Lynette knew he wouldn't tell her everything—he'd given in too fast. But something was better than nothing. "Fine."

He opened his laptop and turned it on. Soon there was a slideshow of pictures. "Sarah Kent founded the Sons of Adam with Matthew acting as the spiritual leader, keeping the peace and swaying new converts. He was the public voice of the group. Meanwhile, Sarah was the brains and made all the decisions. It was less like saving souls and more like preparing the world for a second coming. She called it The Revelation and said the world must be cleansed."

"Cleansed how?" Lynette asked.

"She wanted to get rid of unbelievers, gays, blacks, Jews," He paused. "You, me. You name it. If you weren't one of her followers, you were part of the problem."

There were more photos. Matthew preaching, Matthew and Sarah together.

"They live on a compound west of Fairview. They preach independence and hatred."

"So, anyone who doesn't believe what they believe in is fair game?" Lynette asked.

"For Sarah, yes. But she died last year." Another picture showed up of wreckage from a car accident. Then funeral pictures came. Kent appeared devastated. He was with two young men. Lynette recognized the man she had seen earlier at Katherine's office.

"Who's that?"

"The kid? That's their son."

"No, the other one."

"Hampton, Sarah's right hand. Aryan Nation, ties to the KKK. And pretty much any other militant right-winged racist group you can think of. He wanted to bring them back to Sarah's old ways, wage wars with their enemies. All that jazz. But currently Matthew is still grieving so most of the group is supporting him. Plus he is much more charismatic. Your turn."

Lynette sighed, "I guess I have no choice. But it's off the record." She told him about what happened in the alley and the tattoos.

"Why would the Sons of Adam want to throw suspicion about Nicholas's death onto GOAD?" he said when she had finished. "Maybe there is something more than a simple car accident."

"I can't comment on a patient's case." Lynette said.

Harper sighed, "Than we're right back where we started. With everyone blaming you for Nicholas's death. "He grinned at her, "Well, it sucks to be you. Good thing I'm on your side."

Right, just as long as it got him the inside scoop to a sensational story.

To Be Continued


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Wednesday, July 3, 1:12 AM**

Susan woke up again. She was panting and twisting around in the sheets.

"Shhh...It's all right." Mike said, wrapping his arms around her.

She was ready to bolt but his gentle breathing calmed her. She was in her own bed. At home. Safe. With Mike.

She looked at her alarm clock. One twelve. Her head was pounding and she was covered in sweat. She wriggled out of Mike's embrace. "I'm going to take a bath."

"Want company?" Mike offered.

Tears started stinging Susan's eyes, "No."

Naked, she walked across the room, searching for the doorknob in the dark. She banged into the dresser and cursed. Mike was right there, helping her.

"You all right?" He asked as he guided her to the door and bringing her to the bathroom. He turned on the light.

"Are you sure you don't feel sick or dizzy or anything?"

Susan shook her head, unable to speak. The crack of the baton across her skull, feeling the pavement slam into her face. The terror that she was going to die.

Mike lowered the toilet lid and gently sat her down on it. She had surrendered. In the alley she had just given up without fighting back. Her stomach lurched. She probably would've thrown up if she had anything left to throw up after she'd purged in private at Doc Magoo's.

But it would feel good to try. That sting if bile reaching her throat, drowning out the nasty thoughts, bring some kind of control...

"Susan? Are you alright? Should I call a doctor?" Mike asked, worried. He kneeled beside her and placed his hands on her cheeks. God, Susan had never seen him so worried before.

Susan blinked away her tears. "I'm fine." She said. Then she fell against Mike's bare chest and started sobbing. He let her sob for a few minutes before he scooped her up into his arms and brought her back to bed.

* * *

At three in the morning the pediatric ICU was as quiet as it ever got. The nurses and doctors still rushed urgently from patient to patient but their footsteps were hushed and they whispered instead of shouted. Alarms still blared but were quickly silenced.

Bree crossed the PICU until she got to Shannon Miller's bedside. The six-week-old baby was in a flat, open crib. The baby was flat on its back with soft felt restraints around her wrists and ankles. Bree knew that was a good sign. It meant the baby had begun to fight and the nurses feared she would rip out the IV catheter that ran directly into her heart.

"Keep on fighting, baby girl." Bree whispered, stroking the baby's palm. The baby grabbed on tight not noticing the hand spasm Bree was having. No, this was not happening. Bree tried to will her hand not to shake.

And it did. Just fatigue, that's all it was. Orson Hodge was wrong. There was nothing wrong with her. Nothing some extra sleep wouldn't cure. That would do her more good than Dr. Hodge's fancy, expensive tests.

Bree checked the baby's vital signs and they all looked fine.

"You're going to be all right." Bree whispered.

She left the PICU and started going back to the ER. She had left quickly to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria and had gulped it down on her way to the PICU. But now it was time to get back to work. Before Andrew realized she was gone and gave her more scut work.

Bree was fighting exhaustion. She hadn't gotten any sleep due to Grand Rounds and everything that had happened afterwards. Now she was dragging.

She decided to take the elevator instead of the stairs. At this time of night they wouldn't be slow and the stairs creeped her out when nobody was around. As she waited for the elevator some movement down the hall caught her eye. It was someone coming out of a call room. Poor guy, paged at three in the morning, was her first thought. Then she looked again. The man was naked, completely naked. She felt her cheeks burning but she couldn't look away.

It was Carlos. He was looking right at her but he didn't care that she could see—well, everything. The door to the room had been left open and a blond woman—oh my God, was that Edie?—popped her head out and blew him a kiss as he walked away.

"Love you, babe!" Edie yelled at him.

Carlos didn't acknowledge Bree. He just disappeared into another call room. Edie caught Bree's eye and gave her a gloating smile. Edie winked at Bree and went walked down the hallway and into the stairwell.

Bree stayed there in disbelief. Oh God, what was she going to do? She had to tell Gabby—didn't she? No, she couldn't. It would break Gabby's heart.

The elevator arrived and Bree walked inside, still shocked over what she had just seen. What on earth should she do?

To Be Continued


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**Wednesday, July 3, 6:37 AM**

By morning Lynette's bruises has changed to a deep purple. Her pants covered the scrapes and bruises on her legs but her arm was another story. Her muscles were sore and stiff and any movement triggered pain.

She wore navy sweat pants and a T-shirt from her days working with the New York Disaster Medical Action Team. Part of her job in Fairview was supposed to be implementing the same type of mass-casualty team. If she still had a job.

The word Physician was on the back of the shirt. Technically, she wasn't a doctor today, only a spectator but to hell with it. If it bothered someone they could give her something else to wear. She was still being prepared. She shoved a pair of trauma shears into her pocket.

Her hotel room was a mess. There were pillows and blankets in a disorganized pile on the bed. She had spent all night huddling in the bathtub after being unable to sleep. That was her last refuge on bad nights. She used to do that as a kid when she was hiding from her mother.

She looked in the mirror and shook off those memories. She was a grown woman; it was time to move on. It had been more than a since she succumbed to a panic attack. She stared at her image in the mirror. Except for the cut on her forehead, her tired eyes and dark circles no one would ever guess she had problems in her life. She put on a fake smile and left. At least today she would be too busy to think about the attack, her fight to save her career and the suspicious circumstances around Nicholas's death.

Lynette headed to the Advanced Life Support Headquarters which was right across the street from the local elementary school. Two medics were in the driveway standing by an ambulance. Lynette parked in the visitor's parking lot and headed over to them.

"We thought you might change your mind." Tom greeted her. She was fifteen minutes early. Tom was there with a tall muscular blond also in a medic's uniform. "Pete Brenner meet Dr. Lindquist. She's come all the way from Manhattan to show us how things are done."

"That's not true," She protested. What was Tom's problem this morning? Did he have issues mixing business and pleasure? If so, he shouldn't worry. Lynette was a professional. Forget about the heat he stirred in her. Well, she would try to.

She smiled and extended a hand to Brenner, "It's nice to meet you. I'm just here observing. Call me Lynette."

Brenner's eyes were masked by the dark sunglasses he was wearing but Lynette saw him raise an eyebrow at Tom. "I guess we have to give you something to see then." He said.

He opened the door of the rig and sat in the driver's seat. Tom and Lynette climbed in the rear.

"Remember, no patient contact." Tom said to her. It was an order.

The radio squawked with their first assignment. Lynette tried her best to stay out of the way. Every part of her body yearned to work with Tom and Brenner. They were an efficient team. She realized this was probably because of Tom's amazing leadership skills. From their conversation, she gathered he worked different shifts to make sure Fairview's EMS kept its reputation as the best one in the state. Now she understood his cool reception.

Despite her best efforts the silent treatment continued all morning. Neither man was rude but it obvious they hated the change in their routine.

"You're late," Andrew said to Susan as she walked into the ER that morning. Her head was pounding and she edgy from lack of sleep. She hadn't even changed into a pair of scrubs yet.

"Excuse me?" She said as she sipped from her Starbucks coffee. She leaned against the nurses' station. Andrew was pacing back and forth and looking at a young guy with a visitor's pass. Right, she had forgotten about the college kid she had saddled him with the night before.

"My shift was over at seven. Six minutes ago." Andrew said.

"What? You can't handle six minutes without someone supervising you?" she laughed and turned her attention to the college kid. "How was your night?"

"Fine ma'am. Andrew showed me a lot."

Andrew looked like he was ready to snap at Susan but he stayed calm. "Dan, this is Susan Mayer, one of the ER attendings.

"We've already met. Did you see everything you needed, Dan?" Susan asked.

"I'd like to see the operating rooms and the ICU."Dan answered. "Is that all right?"

"No problem," Susan replied. Bree emerged from a patient room and Dan immediately perked up. He broke into a smile as she walked by.

"I can do it when I'm on again tonight. My mom can cover me." Andrew said. It was totally obvious he just wanted to get out of real work.

"No, you're needed down here." Susan smiled to herself as she took another sip of her coffee. "Bree can give you the tour." She said to Dan. "Is that okay?"

"Yes," Dan replied, nodding eagerly.

"I'm getting out of here." Andrew cut in. "I cleared the board for you. There are just a few drunks sleeping it off, some lacerations, and a bounce back from a few days ago. He needs a psych consult."

"Okay, thanks." Susan said even the board definitely wasn't a clear one. "That all?"

Clueless, Andrew ignored her and walked away. Dan followed him. Susan was about to throw her coffee cup at Andrew. Stupid bastard, trying to give [i]her[/i] orders. Bree rushed forward and stopped her in time. Gabrielle was right behind Bree, shaking her head at Andrew.

"I'm sorry Bree, but is he ever going to pay." Susan said.

"Did you hear Mr. Perch is back?" Gabrielle asked. He was a patient from a week or so ago. He was a bit on the crazy side.

Susan nodded, "I'm going to get changed and then I'll see him first."

"How's your head?" Bree asked.

Susan could tell her and Gabby were waiting for an answer. Okay, why was everyone so concerned about her? Lynette took a worse beating and no cared about her.

"I'm fine, there's barely any pain." Susan lied.

Bree followed her to the locker room. She was moving slowly this morning, as if she was in a daze—and she wasn't the one who had been hit in the head.

Susan changed into scrubs, "See you tonight." She said to Bree.

"Another night with Andrew—how great." Bree said sarcastically. She hung up her lab coat in her locker and grabbed her purse. They returned to the nurses' station. Gabrielle was waiting for two painkillers.

"Here, looks like you need these." She said giving them to Susan.

"Thanks but I'm fine." Susan said. She had already taken three at home.

"You might change your mind after you see Mr. Perch." Gabby rolled her eyes. "I think he's really lost it this time."

"What is it this time?" Susan asked.

"See for yourself."

Susan grabbed Mr. Perch's chart and entered the exam room. Gabrielle followed with a smirk. And Bree tagged along.

Susan saw Andrew's "delusional, psych admit" scrawled on the chart. "Hi Mr. Perch, what brought you in today?"

"I tried to explain it to the other doctor." He answered in an annoyed tone. "There's a bomb inside me and I'm gonna explode! Someone stop it!"

Susan plastered a smile on her face and stayed calm. Maybe Andrew was right as diagnosing him as a psych patient. "This bomb, it's inside of you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And there's no bomb anywhere else outside of you?" Susan asked.

"No, I just swallowed a bunch of fireworks to show my girlfriend how much I love her. I wanted to blow up and give her a big fireworks display. Anyway nothing happened so I want them out in case they do go off. Can you get them out of me?"

Susan blinked and stared at him. Gabrielle was attempting to stop a laugh.

"Now, Mr .Perch don't worry. Dr. Meyer is one of our best. What exactly did you swallow?" Bree asked.

Perch let out a sigh and started naming them, "Okay, there were two cakes, a few gerbs, some strobes, snakes, poppers, fountains, two flying spinners and two pinwheels."

"He's serious," Bree said. "My dad used to put on a big fireworks show on the fourth and those are what he used."

Fireworks? What the hell could she do with fireworks ingestion? "Mr. Perch did you swallow a whole bunch of fireworks?"

"What, hell no, I'm not crazy."

"Okay, Mr. Perch, we're going to get you some help." Susan said.

"Of course I didn't swallow them. I took off the wrappers first. All I swallowed was the explosives inside." He let out a belch which stunk the room of alcohol. It was obvious to them he was drunk.

Susan's mouth opened. She was shocked. Bree's eyes were wide open while Gabrielle had a grin of amusement and dismay.

"You actually swallowed the explosives?" Susan clarified.

Mr. Perch nodded, "You can get them out right?"

"We'll come up with a plan, don't worry." Bree reassured him.

Susan didn't say anything and just shook her head. She walked out of the room.

"Why the hell do the crazy ones always find me?"

To Be Continued


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Wednesday, July 3, 9:29 AM**

It was about nine thirty when Lynette got her chance to show off her medical skills. They were called to a multivehicle collision and were first on the scene. At the center of the five car collision was a tony car crushed from both sides.

Tom and Lynette swung out of the rear with the gear. Tom surveyed the scene before calling for additional units. The scene was chaos with crazy traffic and police trying to control it. Lynette approached the crushed car. A young girl was in the passenger's seat, wedged in because the doors were shut around her.

"Can't do anything until Rescue gets here to cut her out," Tom said, continuing on to a couple trapped in a minivan.

Lynette didn't follow him. That couple was probably in better shape than this girl. Her color was dusky and her neck was swollen. She hadn't been wearing a seat belt. She needed help. Now.

Lynette was about to try something but stopped herself. Adam Mayfair's words rang through her. If she touched a patient she was ruining her chance of getting her job back. She took a step forward. The girl was struggling to breath and was pleading at Lynette with wide eyes.

Lynette raced back to the rig and grabbed several endotracheal tubes and a bag-valve mask.

Brenner saw her and joined her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving her life. Stabilize her C-spine for me." She ordered. She broke the already shattered car window with her good elbow. Then she used the space to reach her patient.

"What the hell? Hey, Tom!" Brenner yelled. Tom was too busy with other victims. Brenner scowled at Lynette before obeying her.

"I've got one chance at this," she said while deciding which ET Tube to use. "If I can't tube her she'll need a trach and that will be a bloody mess."

She was cautiously inching forward. It wasn't very comfortable. Soon she was able to feel the girl's neck. It was very swollen. And the girl was actively fighting to breath. The smell of gasoline and smouldering plastic around her was horrible.

"She's a goner," Brenner said as the girl turned blue.

Lynette tuned everything out and focused on the girl. What she had to do would be tricky. It would be a miracle if it worked but she had no other choice. The girl was now unconscious. She pried the girls jaw open and reached in with her left hand, extending her fingers as far as she could. Hopefully this girl was small enough to do this. Her middle finger brushed against the familiar ridge of tissue that guarded the airway. She threaded the ET tube past her finger and listened closely as the tube went down the airway. If the girl's larynx was crushed then the tube wouldn't be able to pass through the vocal cords.

Lynette held her breath as she struggled to hear a whisper of air through the loud noises. Finally a slight [i]whoosh[/i] sounded from the tube and Lynette let out a relieved sigh.

She pushed the tube a little farther, then clamped it down which braced it in place. With her other hand she attached the bag and started forcing air into the girl's lungs.

"Listen for me, will you?" She asked Brenner.

The paramedic nodded in approval, Lynette's reflection bobbing up and down in his sunglasses. He grabbed his stethoscope. "Sounds good." He said after a minute. "Wow, she's improving. I've never seen anything like it."

"We need to secure the tube." Lynette said as her hand was starting to cramp. "If it comes out she's dead."

Lynette could hear Tom's footsteps running towards them. "Get away from there! The engine's on fire!" He yelled at them.

Lynette already knew this. The heat was unbearable. But she couldn't move or else she would be endangering the patient.

"So put it out!" She yelled back at Tom.

The sound of a fire extinguisher answered. Tom came beside her. "Aww, you made me get my uniform dirty." He teased. And with one swift movement he secured the tube with tape. Lynette shook her cramped hand while squeezing the bag with the other.

Lynette chuckled, "I'm sorry but could you get me a set of vitals and an IV?"

The medics exchanged glances and Brenner smiled and nodded. Tom smiled too.

"No problem Dr. Lindquist." He said.

Her cell phone rang. Before she could answer it Tom grabbed it from her side pocket.

"Who is it?" She mouthed at him.

"Your friendly neighbourhood real estate agent, Edie." He whispered back.

"Tell her I'm busy. Tell her I already found a place on my own." Lynette said.

"Actually Edie, Dr. Lindquist doesn't require your services anymore. She changed to Rare Gems Reality." Then he hung up. "Don't worry, she won't bother you anymore."

"Thanks, Scavo."

His hand brushed her as he placed the phone back in her pocket. She felt a tingling sensation. It didn't help that he was smiling and he had an amazing smile.

Brenner came back and saved her from making an idiot of herself in front of Tom. Thank God.

They headed back to Fairview Memorial with their patient. Tom and Lynette stayed with her in the back.

"Second IV's in," Tom said. "How is she?"

"Okay, easy to ventilate, no signs of crush syndrome yet. I think she'll be fine."

"Thanks to you and that airway trick."

"Yeah, that was a nice save." Brenner piped in from the driver's seat. "Where'd you learn that?"

"When I was on my NICU rotation in medical school. They did that on the preemies all the time. But it's harder on adults. Especially if you have really big hands like Tom's or really small ones like me." She placed her palm against Tom's to demonstrate.

"I don't know how you do your job with such small hands." Tom said, squeezing her hand.

He smiled and Lynette smiled back and released his hand. Being back out in the field, saving a patient, being hands-on, was making her feel a bit dizzy. Even though she knew she would probably lose her job after this.

When they arrived at the ER, Susan and Gabrielle met them in the ambulance bay. Lynette gave control of the girl's airway to Susan while Tom gave them the report.

"Nice work," A deep voice said. Lynette turned. David Wilson was standing there. Lynette backed away from the patient. Wilson glared at her before he assessed the patient.

"Looks like a difficult intubation. Get me a C-spine, chest, and pelvis X-Ray. Load her with Decadron and clear an OR." He ordered.

Tom was trying to get out of there as fast as possible. He was scared of David Wilson being there.

"Wait!" David called. "Who intubated this patient?"

"I did," Tom said before Lynette could speak.

Tom was a bad liar so Gabrielle looked at Lynette and shook her head as Lynette opened her mouth to tell the truth. She shut it and stood beside Tom. He didn't deserve to be the only target of Wilson's fury.

"Okay, well, walk me through the procedure then." Wilson said to Tom.

"It's a tricky procedure," he began, "But with the swelling and her progressive respiratory distress I thought it would be safer than attempting a tracheotomy in the field.

David was obviously still sceptical. "Go on."

"I used a pediatric ET Tube and digitally intubated." Tom finished. "I used my middle finger to guide the tube into the vocal cords."

He used his middle finger in the air at Wilson to demonstrate. Lynette nudged him. She didn't like him playing games with Wilson. Now that he'd taken credit, she couldn't speak up. It would just get them both into a lot of trouble. Fuck, she wished he hadn't gotten involved. She could fight her own battles.

"I didn't think it would work but it did. Lucky me." He said.

"You're right," David said, staring at Lynette. "Someone got lucky, Dr. Lindquist I believe I saw you assisting on this patient."

"Just helping out during the transfer," Susan cut in.

"Force of habit. Sorry," Lynette lied.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. The Executive Committee meets soon. Until then your probation status is revoked and I'm citing you for violating its terms. If you touch another patient or step foot into this hospital again before July 5th I'll have the hospital attorney take legal action and send a letter to the state medical board." He leered at her. "Am I clear?"

Tom looked angry as if he wanted to knock out the surgeon. Lynette touched his shoulder, restraining him. She stepped forward, making David's glare look worse.

"Yes, I understand." She said.

His eyes narrowed at her, "Now get out of here. I suggest you go home and start looking for another job. Back with the nuts in New York."

His loud voice had raised the attention of everyone in the room. All those people who were trying to ignore the exchange.

Lynette narrowed her eyes back. She knew she shouldn't push him. He was obviously hurting over the death of his son but she couldn't help it.

"I'm afraid you won't get rid of me that easily. Fairview is my home now, Dr. Wilson."

With that she turned around and left the room. Ignoring Dr. Wilson's threats and the stares she was getting.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Wednesday, July 3****,**** 10:54 AM**

As soon as Dr. Wilson and his patient were safely up in the OR, Gabrielle and Susan joined Lynette at the nurses' station where Tom was finishing his run report.

"Don't mind David," Gabrielle said, "He's insisting on working despite everything so he's not himself."

"The man's an asshole," Susan piped in, "Oh; you should have been here earlier. A guy came in who had swallowed firecrackers."

"Firecrackers? That's a new one." Lynette remarked.

"Yeah, and firecrackers have tons of things in them. It caused the guy to crash." Susan was bouncing with excitement.

"Methemoglobinemia?" Lynette asked, interested. It was rare but often fatal if not treated quickly.

"Yep. Bree was on the phone with poison control while Gabby was doing a gavage and charcoal—"

"Definitely not my favourite procedure." Gabby cut in, gesturing to the charcoal stains covering her scrub jacket.

"Meanwhile, I'm running back and forth to the pharmacy." Susan finished.

"How's the patient now?" Tom asked as he gave Gabrielle the paperwork.

"Upstairs for observation but he should be fine." Susan said. "Wasn't that a cool case?"

Brenner appeared, after bringing their equipment back to the rig. Lynette and Tom got ready to leave.

"Nice save, Susan." Lynette told her co-worker. "Maybe you should write it up for one of the medical journals."

"That would be great. Why don't you help me?" Susan suggested.

Everyone stopped and stared. First at Susan, then at Lynette.

If David Wilson got his way, Lynette would never get to touch another patient much less assist another attending. A fact that, Susan hadn't registered yet because of how self-absorbed Susan was.

Tom came to Lynette's rescue by clearing his throat, "We better get going."

Gabrielle glared at Susan, "Okay, see you guys later."

"What? What did I say?" Susan asked as Tom ushered Lynette out of the ER.

Forty minutes later, Lynette, Tom and Brenner were at McDonalds eating a late breakfast/early lunch. Lynette was surprised when Tom ordered salad while she and Brenner chowed down on Big Mac's and fries. She'd forgotten how much she missed this—life on the streets. It was one the things that had attracted her to the Fairview job, the opportunity to both works hands-on with the medics and take shifts in the ER.

But she knew that the opportunity was fading fast due to her behaviour. "I guess I better go."

"You don't have to leave. Wilson isn't my boss." Tom said.

"No, I'm not letting you two put your careers in trouble—"

"Oh, come on," Brenner spoke up. "You saved that girl's life. You have to finish our shift with us. You're our good luck charm."

Tom smiled, "Yeah, stay with us. Besides, I want to learn more of those tricks you learned in New York."

The two men stared at Lynette as they stood up. Lynette hesitated by decided to join them. She was only observing, no big deal. On the next run to the hospital she'd stay out of sight of David Wilson.

Brenner gave the keys to Tom and joined Lynette in the back. Soon the radio started crackling.

"Med Seven, woman with chest pain, Friendship Fellowship Church. Please respond."

"Med Seven responding," Tom said, hitting the lights and the sirens. Brenner and Lynette prepared the equipment they would need. They arrived and Brenner pushed the door open. Lynette helped him with the gurney.

As they walked into the church they saw a woman lying on her side near the altar. She was clutching her chest with one hand. She was a black woman and looked to be in her late fifties.

There were a group of women around her who ranged from their twenties to their seventies standing near her. A pile of cleaning supplies was to the left.

"What happened?" Tom took the lead. Lynette had to hold her tongue, remembering she was only observing.

"We were cleaning the altar. We come every Wednesday," One of the younger women said, "Mary," she gestured to the patient, "was the first one here, just like always."

Lynette helped Brenner lower the gurney and slide the woman on to it. Then she placed an oxygen mask over Mary's face. She didn't like the way the woman was gasping for breath but her color was good. Tom gently placed the woman's hands aside and unbuttoned her dress front so he could place her on a monitor.

"We're here to help you." Lynette reassured the older woman.

Tom continued questioning the young woman, Tina, as he jotted down a set of vitals. "What happened when she got sick?"

"We had only just started when she started complaining about her chest pain. We thought it was the heat. So we sat her down and gave her a glass of lemonade. She took one of her pills but said that gave her a headache."

"What pills? Does she have a history of heart problems?" Tom asked.

Mary herself nodded. She reached into her dress pocket and handed Tom a pill bottle.

"High blood pressure and angina. She doesn't like bothering the doctor. When she has a spell she just takes a pill and it passes."

Brenner glanced up from his EKG tracking, "Everything looks okay, just a touch of sinus tach."

Tom pulled the mask away from Mary's face, "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

She shook her head, "No. Can't breathe." She said, gasping for air.

"Pulse ox is a hundred percent," Brenner said. "Can't get better than that." He started an IV. Mary didn't even flinch at the needle stick.

"Lugs are clear, no signs of pulmonary edema. Heart sounds good too." Tom said. "Lynette, what do you think? Inferior wall MI?"

They began pushing the gurney down the aisle of the church. "Maybe, or it could be a pulmonary embolism."

A blood clot in the lungs would cause respiratory distress like this but they couldn't treat that in the field. Tom nodded in agreement as they loaded Mary into the back of the rig. Brenner jumped in the driver's seat and called into Fairview Memorial.

"They said go ahead with MI protocol." He said when he was finished.

Mary made a choking noise. Tom moved the oxygen mask from her mouth as Lynette grabbed an emesis basin. Mary began to vomit. When she was done she collapsed against the gurney. Lynette emptied the basin's contents into a red biohazard bag.

Tom grabbed nitro spray from the drug box.

"As long as her BP is stable we'll stick with the nitro. Open up, Mary. I'm going to spray this under your tongue. "He wiped Mary's mouth for her.

"Wait," Lynette said. "What's that smell?" She sniffed. "Like something's burnt. It's subtle but definitely there."

Tom was about to spray the nitro, "Whoa, Lynette...no way."

Mary's mouth was open as she waited for her medication. The veins below her tongue weren't blue like Lynette expected. They were bright red. Damn.

She grabbed the nitro away from Tom.

"Nitro will make things worse. It's cyanide."

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Wednesday, July 3, 12:17 PM**

Tom obviously wasn't convinced. "Lynette, you're not even supposed to be here. Much less touching a patient or countermanding orders—"

"Trust me, Tom. Do you have a cyanide kit on board?"

"Top shelf," he said. He sniffed near Mary's mouth. "Are you sure about this Doc?"

She opened the kit, "It all makes sense. Normal oxygen level but her breathings getting worse, normal EKG, that smell, and when's the last time you saw veins that red in a patient with a PE or MI?"

"We really should follow protocol. I can't ignore orders."

"I'm giving you new orders." Lynette said, opening a vial of drugs.

"Right. You're not even officially here. We'll lose our licenses and you'll never work again. If Wilson gets his way, you could end up in jail." Tom seemed angry. "What if you're wrong? What if she's really having a heart attack?"

Lynette looked from Tom to Mary. The patient was oblivious.

"I'm not wrong. Trust me." Lynette said.

Tom looked at the patient. She was having more trouble breathing. It was a losing battle for her. Brenner turned from the front seat and looked at Tom. He nodded showing his approval of Lynette's actions.

"Fine," Tom said.

Lynette pushed the drugs, hoping they weren't too late. Mary opened her eyes. Her breathing was slowly improving and she looked less anxious.

The rig pulled into the ambulance bay of the ER. They hauled the gurney out and pushed it down the hallway to the trauma room.

"Mary, did you eat or drink anything this morning?" Lynette asked while transferring the patient to a hospital bed.

"Just two glasses of lemonade." Mary answered. "At the church."

"Is this our chest pain?" Adam Mayfair asked, entering the room. He looked at the monitor with the patients vitals. "Looks good. I guess the nitro helped." He bent over to face the patient. "How do you feel?"

Tom opened his mouth but Lynette spoke up first. She wouldn't let him get in trouble again. Not this time.

"We think she was a victim of cyanide poisoning. She responded to five grams of hydroxocobalamin and a hundred percent O2." Lynette started getting a little nervous as she spoke those words.

Adam looked up, looking mad. "You did what? I ordered MI protocol!"

Brenner rushed into the room clutching the biohazard bag. "Thought you might need this."

"He'll explain everything." Lynette said, hurrying out of the room.

Tom followed right behind her.

"It was the lemonade." Lynette said.

"I'll call dispatch; have them send another ambulance along with the police." Tom replied.

"Have them call the church, warn them." Lynette responded with before racing to the drug lock up. She punched in her access code. Thank god Adam hadn't cancelled her code yet. She grabbed four cyanide kits and rushed back to the nursing station with them.

Tom hung up the phone. "No luck. There's a fire that everyone's tied up with."

"Hey!" They heard a voice behind them. Lynette turned around and saw Gabrielle standing behind her. "What are you doing? Dr. Lindquist, you can't take those."

Lynette tightly clutched the kits. "Ask Adam. Better yet, call the pharmacy and get more of these. Fast."

Tom drove as fast as he could, going over the speed limit and speeding through intersections, not bothering about the traffic.

"How long do we have?" He shouted over the blaring siren.

"If they drank any before we came to pick up Mary—"

"We might be too late." Tom finished. Finally, after a few obstacles Tom pulled up in front of the church.

Lynette jumped out before the vehicle had come to a complete stop. She ran into the church. She was so scared, her palms were sweating. Inside the door she stopped. Inside the church were four motionless bodies. Her footsteps echoed around the church as she ran to the first women. No pulse. She swallowed and refused to give up. She went over to the second victim. Also dead.

Tom entered the church, his hands full of equipment, "My God."

Tom rushed over to another victim who was lying face down in a pile of vomit. "She's dead. Jesus, are they all dead?"

"Those two are gone," Lynette replied, trying to stay calm. Her hands were trembling as she reached for the last victim. Tina, the young girl who had helped with Mary. She was also dead.

"Where's the last one?" Lynette asked, her eyes scanning the church. "There were five."

"Maybe she went for help, maybe she's okay." Tom said, jumping to his feet.

"You look through the pews, I saw an office in the back, I'll check there." Lynette said.

Tom frantically ran up and down the pews while Lynette went into the tiny office in the back of the church. No one there but it led to another room which was a change room for the choir. The last women lay in a heap on the floor there. Her cell phone near her head.

Lynette kneeled next to her hoping for a pulse but knowing she wouldn't have one. She frantically searched but there wasn't one. Lynette stopped being a professional and let the tears that had been building in her eyes fall.

Why? Who had done this and why?

Tom ran into the room, "I can find—Oh." He sunk to the ground next to Lynette. Lynette managed to regain her composure after a few minutes. "We better call the police."

Tom nodded but didn't move. Instead he reached for Lynette and pulled her close to him. He wasn't crying but he was shaking. Lynette thought that coming from a guy who was so used to being in control, which was worse than tears.

Lynette held onto him for a while until finally they both calmed down a little. "I'll make the call. You stay here."

Lynette waited until she was outside of the church before pulling her cell phone out. It was boiling hot out. One of those really humid summer days. Lynette could see heat waves coming from the sidewalk, yet she couldn't stop shivering. She dialed 911 and after explaining it wasn't a true emergency, she requested to speak with Mike Delfino. She was put on hold.

After what seemed like forever Mike finally answered. She explained what had happened to him.

"Don't touch anything," he ordered, "We're on our way."

Lynette hung up and shook her head before going back into the church. Tom was sitting in a pew in the front row praying.

The police finally arrived and escorted them outside. "Don't go anywhere." The officer in uniform told them. "Not until the detectives say it's okay."

They sat on the back bumper of the ambulance and watched two more police cars pull up. A few unmarked cars came and finally two medical examiner vans showed up.

There was crime-scene tape all around the church.

Forty minutes later an older man arrived. Lynette figured it was the pastor. He was escorted inside. When he emerged he was visibly shaken. One of the officers let him sit in his squad car as he talked on a cell phone.

"Next-of-kin notification," Tom said.

Lynette just nodded. She had no energy to speak. She'd been at crime scenes before, had been in the midst of chaos during a disaster, but this was different. She had talked to these women moments before their death.

The whole thing just gave her the creeps.

TBC


End file.
